Magic Intertwined
by Elphaba818
Summary: House rivalry, stereotypes, class-differences - no wonder they've never been friends. But circumstances thrust them together after their names are mysteriously drawn from the Goblet of Fire. Adolescent insecurity, unmet parental expectations, stupid hormones - Hogwarts' Champion Team is a mess. RotBTFD/HP AU. Co-Written with SharKohen.
1. The Departure From Platform 9 34

**Elphaba818's Author Note:**

 **Welcome! Welcome one and all! I'm Elphaba818! This is a project I've been working on for many months now along with my new friend here on FF and fellow co-author of this story: SharKohen. To those of you who read Rise of the Brave Tangled Frozen Dragons stories, you might recognize her name, because she's the author of several amazing Big Five stories here on the site, two of which include The Guardian Games series (Hunger Games AU) and More Than a Bird, More Than a Plane (Superhero AU). I'm so happy that she was willing to collaborate with me on this idea, a Big Five series in a Hogwarts AU world! And to those of you who read my work, Elphaba818, you might recognize me as the writer of The Winter Servant under Frozen/Rise of the Guardians crossover. I'll be juggling it alongside this story for some time, but I assure you that it's not abandoned! I've just been busy working on this recently.  
**

 **Anyway, you're all in for a wild ride! I don't think anyone's tried writing a Big Five/Hogwarts AU story in the same way that SharKohen and I have decided to write this! It's going to be a real joy to write this, especially with someone as creative as Shar! I really hope that you all will like this collaboration! I believe that not only will you find a new reason to love the friendship between the five members of the Big Five all over again by reading this, but you also find a new reason to love the Harry Potter universe just as you did when you first gave JK Rowling's fantasy world a chance, be it via the incredible book series, or the thrilling movies. I know I've been in touch with my childhood days of being a die hard HP fan while writing this first chapter! The question is, will you feel that way too, dear readers? ;D**

 **To all my fellow friends here on FF, I hope you're reading this! It's my sincerest wish that you like this story! It's going to be a magical journey, my friends! An incredible magical journey!**

 **Well, that's all from me for this time! I'm going to turn it over to SharKohen now! But before I do, I have one last request from all of you:**

 **Please read, review, and above all, enjoy the chapter!**

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 **SharKohen's Author Note:  
**

 **Wait, is it that author that writes a bunch of Rise of The Brave Tangled Frozen Dragons that are pretty fun to read but, you know, take FOREVER to update (#self-praise #shamelessasheck #thankyouthankyou)? What's she doing here?**

 **Well, if you have a problem, blame Elphaba818. It's all her fault. And also my lack of discipline and my desire to live a life beyond the spindles of imagination, but please just blame her because I'm incredibly immature and have no idea how to take responsibility for my actions.**

 **In all seriousness, I hope you, my good reader, would have an enjoyable time digging through yet another AU. There have been many Harry Potter AU stories for the ROTBFD fandom floating around for sometime, and this is merely our interpretation of how we think it should go. Hope that you may enjoy this convoluted mess, and leave a review so that we can squeal and shriek over the idea of people actually reading this.**

 **Ciao, SharKohen.**

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 **Chapter One: The Departure From Platform 9 3/4**

The 19th Century was a remarkable year of progress for Great Britain, such as with the successful transfer of state power from the monarchy to the people – well, more accurately, the lords, but the lords were supposed to represent the people, so… somehow, that was supposed to work out. It was the era of the steam engine and the industrialized world – with all its vices. It was the time of scientific discovery – indeed, the first theory of electromagnetism was written in this period of time – and the era of expanding empires.

That was, at least, in the Muggle world.

The Wizarding world was not as fixated on categorizing their history in the numerical digits, but preferred to cast their tales in a narrative form, and hence referred to big blocks of time in terms of their events – for example, that time Muggles hunted down witches and burnt on stakes, only that they didn't really know how to distinguish witches from non-witches. Or that time when Goblin started rebelling, and kept just rebelling. Or that time when the Dark Lord started a war that pitted son against father, ally against ally, neighbor against neighbor, and the entire Wizarding world had expected him to win.

 _'Had expected'_ was the key phrase.

On the snow-covered hills of Dartmoor was where one particular wizard found himself. He had to admit he was not quite familiar with the land here - not being of English origin himself – and he had a hard time directing his team of reindeer to fly in the direction that he desired.

"Well, this had better be it," he spoke in the cold, dark night, possibly to the reindeers that were strapped to the front of his sleigh, or perhaps he was talking to himself.

His round, jolly form then stepped off the sleigh, gazing grimly out into the dark, snow ridden moors. Even though he technically knew what the address was, there was no sure way for him to know if he had found the right place. The ones who had sent him the location had not wanted to attach a tracking spell on it just in case it fell into the wrong hands, so he had been left wandering around the freezing countryside of South Devon, dropping himself near unfamiliar farmhouses and leaving disgruntled. Here, just some distance away, was yet another house standing surrounding by barren plots of land, looking just like all the others he had seen.

Nicholas St. North, or as he was often called, North informed his ride to wait as he began his journey towards the farmhouse.

His way was illuminated by the full moon above, making it unnecessary for him to draw out his wand to cast a _'Lumos'_ spell, but it sadly did not provide him much warmth. Wrapping his furs more tightly around himself, North drew out his wand in preparation to casting a warming spell when a movement on the ground gained his interest.

From a pile of snow emerged a grey-haired bunny, small in its stature and freezing, by the way its body was shaking. It was not the usual type of bunny one would find the wintry English moors, and already North had recognized it. With a wide beam that was almost enough to rip apart his frozen beard, the large man greeted the creature, "Well, it seemed that I have found the right place at last. How do you do, Bunnymund?"

At the call of his name, the cute bunny seemed to wrinkle his nose in disgust, before growing abruptly in size. Downwards-pointing front paws lengthened out, along with its flat-footed hind limbs stretching and straightening. The fur and whiskers all vanished to reveal tanned, rough skin. The man with grey-hair and clothes too thin for a breezy winter stood himself upright to face his colleague.

"'Bout time you got here, old man," was the growled reply, as Bunny clutched his bare arms, shuddering. "Now—" he jerked his head towards the farmhouse. "—can we get out of this horrific weather?"

When North entered the house for the first time, he was surprised by how ordinary it looked. There wasn't much inside in the first place, just a welcome mat, some bookshelves, a mantelpiece over the burning fire place, a shattered window, shredded curtains, broken china, an overturned dining table, a leaking water pump, cracks along the wall—

"It looked way worst before you got here," Bunny sniffed, whipping out his wand and waved it at the shattered china. The porcelain pieces picked themselves off the ground, spinning a bit in the air before flying themselves to cupboard, stacking themselves up neatly.

North watched also as the shredded curtain began to mend itself, thanks to the gifted wand-work of another of his colleagues on site. Out of them, the chatty Toothiana was said to have an eye for small detail, hence her obsession with many small things, such as teeth, pins, buttons, thread and again teeth. She was not chatting now though, brows furrowed in concentration as she enchanted the fallen shards and had them return to their rightful position over the window sill. Finally, the freezing wind and its snow was shut outside. The repaired curtain was next to fly up, hooking itself back up and normalcy was restored.

On the other end of the room was Sanderson, a wizard so small that he often been mistaken for a goblin. He was rearranging the chairs and tables of the sitting room, though with his hands and not his wand. He then proceeded onto the dining part of the space to rearrange the furniture there and North hurried over to lend him a hand.

The four of them spent a few silent moments patching up the cracks along the house, fitting back the loose pieces in the floorboards and reversing the damaged that had been wrecked on the various objects sitting around. It was only once everything seemed to, for lack of better words, Muggle-worthy, that North finally turned to his fellow companions and asked tersely, "What happened?"

It was clear by the hesitation that no one wanted to answer at first. Tooth had sunken herself into the plush armchair, fingers fidgeting. Bunny had taken it upon himself to stare intently at the mantelpiece above the fireplace, as it was truly a vital action. Finally, it was Sandy who answered, but he did not speak. Instead, he removed his wand from his pocket, waving it. At once a flurry of golden sand appeared over his head, melding into symbol after symbol, which told North just as clearly as in words, _"You-Know-Who was here."_

Even though he had guessed as much, North couldn't help but suck in a tight inhale. He gazed around the small interior of this simple cottage and he shuddered to imagine that it had so recently been filled by the very entity that had shaken the entire Wizarding world.

Then Sandy's choice of words hit him, and North repeated, " _'Was'_ , you say?"

"He's not here anymore," Tooth said. A flash a smile seemed to have crossed her lips, before slipping back to somberness. "He's been vanquished."

"Good riddance," Bunny muttered acridly, choosing at that moment to adjust the position of the clock on the mantel. "The war is finally over."

"Well, that is good news, no?" North was a little confused by the lack of enthusiasm emanated from his fellow colleagues. After all, the enemy had been defeated, the threat had been lifted and the war was over. He felt certain that there was something missing – something darker that they insinuated. Not being one to beat around the bush, he pressed them, "What is it you are not telling me?"

It was then that the creaking of hinges was heard. A door that North had not noticed before had opened and from it a haggard, worn figure emerged.

The owner of the figure was unremarkable by appearance, but in North's opinion, worthy of the world's commendation and respect. Sadly, the balding professor, whose frame had thinned and shoulders drooped increasingly over the years of the war, seemed more broken than ever as he moved towards his younger companions. Tooth had risen immediately from her seat when she saw him and even Bunny had torn himself away from the fireplace to face him. When the professor caught sight of North, he gave him a small nod of acknowledgement as a greeting. North gave a small bow as a reply, and said simply, "Manny."

"How are they?" Tooth inquired softly, as if anything less than silence would shatter the world around them.

Manny pulled door behind himself, ensuring it had shut with a definitive 'click' before speaking, "Fast asleep. They are unharmed and have no idea what just occurred – not the woman, nor the two children."

It was only then that the truth had really dawned upon North and it was fortunate that a chair had been so close by at the time, for his lower limbs had abruptly lost the ability to support his weight. Sandy, who had been standing by his side at the time, patted him comfortingly on the arm, though his own eyes were too full of sorrow.

"So, should they know?" Bunny inquired bluntly. "I mean, their home just got wrecked, if nothing else." He had never been the most tactful of them and North shot him a glare to let him know exactly that.

Fortunately, Manny was nothing but patient – and he certainly had to be to put up with Bunny, in North's opinion – and he answered gently, "It would be best if they didn't. Even with the Dark Lord defeated, his followers are still at large. For their safety, it is essential this family remains hidden, even if that means-" the man let out a long sigh "-foregoing the knowledge of tonight's events."

The animagus did not appear pleased by this. "You won't even let them defend themselves?"

"They wouldn't be able to defend themselves regardless," Tooth defended Manny's argument, looking darkly at Bunny. "They don't have the ability to."

"Tooth is right. Two children so innocent shouldn't grow up under the shadow of fear." Manny himself moved towards the dining table and sat himself down. "They deserve better."

Sandy, who never seemed to be fazed by anything, had then produced the newly-repaired china teapot which had been conveniently filled with hot water. He began pouring out the tea into cups and handed them out to his fellow colleagues.

Manny took the offered cup with thanks, but did not drink from it, just holding it in his hands to warm them. Tooth sipped slowly on the tea, controlled and methodical, still fervently trying to stay quiet, it seemed. Bunny merely sniffed his tea, then inhaled it aroma, but like Manny, did not drink it. North immediately down the contents down his throat, only to realize that what he was drinking was still boiling hot and he proceeded to spew the tea back in the cup, coughing hard while his tongue burned. No one amongst the company commented on his lack of etiquette, being too absorbed in their own thoughts. Though Sandy did tell him through sand-covered symbols, with much amusement, _"Not Vodka."_

"Noted," North muttered hoarsely, before coughing once again.

Once the sting on his throat started to fade off and coughing fits halted, the large man found himself stroking his beard in thought and the word running through his mind came spilling from his mouth, "Why?"

Heads were raised towards him curiously.

"Why here?" North clarified his outburst, "Why them? What did he expect to gain from it?"

"Why wouldn't he?" Bunny growled scornfully, though the scorn was not aimed at North. "He hates Manny. He hates us. He hates Muggles." He let out a sardonic chuckle as he did. "So, why not?"

"That wasn't it," Tooth murmured. "He was afraid." Now that the attention of the room had shifted to her, but she didn't seem to notice, staring down at her near emptied cup. "And in his attempt to defy the prophecy, he brought about the end of himself."

"That is not necessarily true," interjected Manny's heavy, tired voice. "He is defeated, yes, but he's not gone. Not forever." At this, his younger companions all turned sharply at him, straightening up in alarm. Speaking this clearly brought the old professor no joy, but it was a truth that had to be said. "You might not be able to feel it, but I can. I—" his hands tightened around his teacup, regret thick in his tone "—I have been bound to him far longer than any of you. I know him better than I wish I did. He's only gone in body, not in soul."

"Well, that's just brilliant," came Bunny's bitter reply, as he tipped his tea into Sandy's empty cup. The golden-haired man clearly was not pleased that the animagus had not appreciated the beverage, but sipped down the tea regardless, as not to waste it. "Absolutely bloody, flippin' brill—"

"Excuse me, but who are you?"

It was only then that the company had realized that they had gained another member – a small, thin boy with curious brown eyes and dark chocolate hair. The little lad, who couldn't be older than five, carried a candle by its holder and he was standing by the doorway, gawking at all of them.

The adults all froze in shock, teacups paused in mid-air and words stolen from their lips. The boy took a step towards them, unafraid but still a little wary. He held the candle up higher, his corners of his lips turning downwards as he asked, "Are you burglars?"

North, who out of all the company, was nearest to the boy at the time and somehow managed to find his tongue. "No."

"Oh." The boy appeared rather relieved to hear that answer. "Good. We don't have very much to steal, anyway." He continued to step towards the dining table, pausing to look at Tooth and saying, "Your hair is green."

"Y-yes," Tooth stammered, a little surprised by his frank assessment.

The boy continued to stare at her for a few seconds, then said while nodding his head, "Well, it's very pretty." He then spun around to face Bunny, craning his head up to take in full features of the skilled animagus. "You look like an escaped convict."

North had to choke back a laugh when he saw how Bunny's eyes narrowed into slits. "Really?"

"Yes." The boy's voice was unwavering and his face straight.

"Do you even know what 'convict' means?" challenged the man, folding his arms and raising his brow.

"It means criminal, prisoner, or offender," came the proud answer. At that, a chuckle escaped North throat, unable to contain his amusement at Bunny's predicament. The boy whipped around to face him, pleased that his little show-off had been taken so well. "I looked it up in Papa's dictionary yesterday. He left us an awful lot of books, you see."

The silence that invaded them was so forceful that its presence was almost tangible. None on the table could speak, not even Manny who stared at the boy with such intensity that it was remarkably that the young lad hadn't felt the weight of it yet.

Eventually, it was North who cleared his throat and beckoned the boy towards him. The child moved towards him obediently, headed tilted to the side as he assessed the large man and his thick fur clothes. North gestured to the chair across his own, so the lad sat himself down, still gazing at the large man with wide eyes.

Stroking his beard, he inquired, "What is your name, child?"

"Jackson Overland Frost," the boy recited, with a hint of distaste as he did. "I don't like it. It's very long."

"Indeed."

"Call me Jack," he insisted, smiling in a manner that was frighteningly familiarly. "That's what Mama calls me."

"Well, Jack—" casting a glance towards his colleagues, then back to the boy "—what does your father call you?"

"Oh." The boy appeared a little stricken by his question, his self-assuredness fading abruptly as he began fiddling with buttons of his nightclothes. "Erm, well, I don't know. I don't actually remember a lot about him. He's been gone for so long."

It was beyond all doubt that now the entire room was listening closely. Silent glances were exchanged as North, wearing an unreadable expression, continued to question him. "When did he leave?"

"I don't know." Jack shrugged, forehead creasing as he thought. "But I suppose he'll back soon." The way he said made it clear that he was quite optimistic about the prospect.

The truth of the matter was hence unveiled, and the tragedy could not be denied. A sob broke out unexpectedly from Tooth, who had quickly clamped a hand over her mouth. The boy however had caught it and his head swung instantly towards the woman.

"What's wrong?" he asked, bewilderment sketched over his young, innocent features. "Do you know Papa?"

Tooth could not reply, so being so overwhelmed by her emotions, and it was known that it was best if she did not. At that moment, Sandy quietly left the dining room to return to the kitchen, where no doubt he had obtained the tea from earlier on.

Wanting to distract the boy, North then asked him, "So, Jack, how old you?"

"Four," the lad answered, though his gaze was still fixed on Tooth. Bunny had then guided the young woman to a chair and offered her a handkerchief, which she used promptly to bury her face in. For all his disagreement with Bunny, the stout Russian knew that, at heart, he was gentleman.

"Four, eh? Do you have any siblings?"

"My sister. She's called Emma." This seemed to do the trick, for Jack promptly then tore his eyes from Tooth and proceeded to unleash an avalanche of enthusiasm. "She's very small, and she cries and screams a lot. Mama says that because she's hungry, and she's always drinking milk. I don't understand." The young lad scrunched his face up in confusion. "Why does she always have to drink milk? She's so small, so where does all of it go? Does it go into her blood? And I don't understand. Why does she drink milk when she's hungry? Shouldn't she eat food when she's hungry? Maybe she's just very thirsty. I mean, when I'm thirsty, I drink a lot of water. I like milk too, but milk makes me feel even more thirsty. So if she's thirsty all the time, why is she drinking milk? Maybe she should drink more water instead. Water always makes me feel better after a long hot—"

"After all that talking, you must have worked up thirst," North interrupted smoothly when he noticed Sandy emerging from the kitchen carrying a tin cup.

The small man approached the boy with his little offering and the boy's eyes lit up when he saw the water. He took the cup gratefully and emptied half its contents in one big gulp.

Jack then turned back to North. "Mama say I drink like a camel. I don't know what a camel is, but I read in a book that there are camels drink a lot of water. You see, they live in big places called 'desert'. I've never seen a desert before, but it's supposed to be very hot, you see, and there's very little water, so these camels—" then abruptly, the tirade ceased.

The boy's eyelids drooped and his posture sagged. Sandy managed to catch the cup from his small hand before it fell to the floor and North caught Jack's limp form before it slipped from the chair. Scooping up at the now-sleeping lad, he then looked expectantly at the rest of his companions.

"He can't know of us coming here," Manny said. There was a great reluctance in his manner. "In fact, he shouldn't know about us at all." His head swung to Tooth, who was now dabbing her eyes. "Would you mind helping us with that, my dear? You're the most careful of us, and we do not want to hurt his young mind."

The young woman appeared quite hesitant, if her quivering lip was anything to go by. Nonetheless, she blew her nose in the handkerchief once more – much to Bunny's disgust, then resignation – before rising to her feet. She removed the wand from the pocket of her robe as she moved towards the boy. North helped to prop Jack up so that she could direct her wand at him.

Her voice was almost breaking as she uttered, _"Obliviate."_

Later, Tooth was the one to carry the boy back to his room, and Sandy was the one to carry all the used china back to the kitchen. North suspected that Tooth had volunteered out of a sense of guilt, despite her task having been necessary. Bunny went to put out the fire and poked the ashes, for no one could know after their little visit tonight. North then took the moment to approach his old teacher, who had not spoken a word after giving his instruction to Tooth.

At that moment, Manny was staring down the empty dining table which had its chairs fitted back around it, as if they had never been touched. North wondered if his mentor was imagining all the meals that had been taken around that table, with food that hadn't prepared with an ounce of magic and dishes that had never been charmed, by people who would never know what had been taken from them.

"So, what now, Manny?" North inquired quietly, as not to startle the professor out of his thoughts.

The older fellow did not reply immediately, and when he did, there was hollowness in it. "His followers need to be apprehended, but I don't doubt that Aurors are already on the case. So, my good Nicholas—" he clapped North warmly on the shoulder, smiling weakly "—we should celebrate. The war is over, after all."

"Yes. But—" the big man couldn't help but lift his head towards the corridor that led to the sleeping quarters. Tooth had already emerged from what had must have been the children's room and was still drying her tears on her sleeve "—are they really safe here?"

"As safe one can get in the Muggle world, I imagine," Manny reply. "Besides, don't you feel that?"

North paused, trying to find what exactly his friend was referring to but not being able to place it.

Fortunately, the balding professor was generous enough to supply the answer. "Love protects this household – the strongest I've ever felt. Unrelenting, yet gentle." He let out a sigh, mixed with gladness and sadness both. "The Frosts are in no danger as of now."

The big man then found himself releasing a breath he hadn't known he had been holding. With that fear out of the way, he could allow himself to relax a little. Manny was right. The war was over. Now was a time for joy, not sorrow.

All the same, a part of him grieved that they would probably never see the boy again. Though a tad too excitable and talkative, North found himself liking the young Jack Frost. It was pity that they had to part ways, but if they were to keep the Frosts safe, it would be best for them to keep their distance. Besides, it wasn't often that people like them were called to the Muggle world.

It was almost like Manny could read his thoughts, for the old professor then told him, "Oh, do not weep, my friend. We will see young Jack again."

"We will?" North was surprised.

"I suppose he had you distracted, or you would have noticed it too." Manny jerked his head in direction of the bedrooms, where the young lad lay fast asleep. For the first time that night, North saw a genuine smile on his old mentor's face. "We'd see him at Hogwarts in a few years' time, I imagine."

* * *

The scarlet steam engine let out a shrill blast from its whistle, signaling to everyone waiting on the platform that it would be leaving soon.

The platform was packed in fact with great swarms of families, each one bustling about. Parents tried to get their children on board the train with all their necessities for the upcoming school year. Trunks containing their textbooks, robes, and any other essentials were loaded onto the red locomotive. Those who had chosen to bring along their pets, such as owls, cats, toads, and other unusual creatures, loaded them on too. Sleek and shiny broomsticks, which couldn't be fitted into trunks, were slung over shoulders. Pockets were double-checked for the most essential item of all – a wand.

Because the train that departed from Platform 9 3/4 at King's Cross station in London, England was not a normal train. It was the _Hogwarts Express,_ and every year at the start of the school term, it would carry all the young witches and wizards to the finest magical school that existed in the mid-1870's: _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Every start-of-term departure from Platform 9 3/4 was always an exciting day, and one certainly never forgot the first time that they experienced it. Such was the case with one small, excited eleven-year-old girl.

She sprinted out from the concealed barrier that marked the entrance to the enchanted platform while accompanied by her reserved and rather proper looking mother, who was kindly pushing her trolley. The girl's bright, turquoise blue eyes were already alight with excitement, but the moment she spotted the gleaming scarlet steam engine, she spun herself around to gawk at it. A gasp of awestruck delight escaped her lips when she spied the words _Hogwarts Express_ stamped across the black smokebox, printed in beautiful gold letters. Although her older sister had crossed this platform three times before, she herself had never been allowed here before.

Her name was Anna. Princess Anna of Arendelle.

"Mother! Mother, look! There's the train! It's the train to Hogwarts!" she cried out, pointing eagerly at the shiny locomotive.

Her mother, Queen Idun, a slender and fair-skinned beauty with lovely chestnut brown hair, lightly laughed at her youngest daughter's enthusiasm. She gently lowered the girl's pointing finger. "Yes, Anna. I can see the train. But do not point like that! It's not proper."

"Oops. Sorry, Mother. I forgot." Anna was sheepish, but her enthusiasm was in no way dampened. It had been her first time in forever to leave their little Nordic kingdom, and she had never seen a real steam train before.

"I know you are excited, Sweetheart, but remember, witch or not, you are still a princess." Idun gazed back towards the barrier that they had both emerged from, waiting expectantly for the other half of their small family to appear, but after a lengthy pause, she sighed. "I suppose your father's stalling again."

"Stalling?" Anna repeated, puzzled. "Whatever for?"

"Your father and I aren't magical people, Anna. Though we've done this a few times now with your sister, well—" Idun quickly raised her hand close to her mouth to politely hide a small, barely noticeable chuckle "—I don't think he's ever really going to believe that he can actually run through a brick wall."

It was then that two sprinting bodies suddenly materialized from the brick barrier entrance onto the secret magical platform. One was pushing a trolley cart with a heavy trunk stacked on top of it, while the other hovered quietly behind. As they slowed down from the quick run, Anna's face immediately brightened.

"Father! Elsa!"

She darted forward and nearly knocked over her father with the ferocity of her hug. While King Agnar of Arendelle was the less expressive of the royal parents, Anna knew he was good and wise, both as a king and a father. She knew she looked very much like him, as she had inherited his strawberry-blonde hair. She was just missing his friendly bottle green eyes and the neatly combed mustache. Other than that, she could almost be considered his miniature female twin.

While Anna's features resembled Agnar, her elder sister took after their mother. Both had bright blue eyes, fair skin, and light pink cheeks, with the only difference being hair color. Her slender frame drew up next to Agnar, not speaking a word.

Eventually, the Muggle king separated himself from his youngest daughter's embrace. He appeared to be a little wobbly on his feet. "That barrier…" Agnar shook his head, sounding disgruntled. "Every time we pass through it, I lose ten years of my life!"

Idun smiled sympathetically at her husband. "It's only six more times, dear."

"Splendid, just splendid," he groaned. He took a few more seconds to regain his bearings, and then turned to Anna. "Well, all set for school then?"

"Yes, Father!" Anna agreed, her red braids bouncing around her head as she hopped up and down a few times in her excitement. "I'm so excited to be going to Hogwarts! A real-life magical castle – just imagine that!" In truth, they did live in a castle back in Arendelle, but it wasn't magical. In fact, Anna would describe it more as dull, cold, and disturbingly empty, but she didn't dare tell her parents this. No need to open up that can of worms right now.

Agnar chuckled as he gently patted her on the head. Anna beamed as she peeked around her father's body, expecting to see Kai, or Gerda, or at least some accompanying guards. It took her a while to remember that other than her parents, no one else in Arendelle knew about Elsa, and now herself, being witches. Anna didn't know all the details, but according to her parents, some wizard law limited knowledge about Hogwarts and the Wizarding world to those who had magic. Parents were the only exception, as school fees still had to be paid. But so great was the secrecy that when her sister had first been enrolled, Anna was told that she was attending just a Scottish finishing school. She was so happy that she no longer needed to be kept in the dark. There was enough about Elsa that she already didn't understand.

Unlike her excited and free spirited little sister, the crown princess and future queen of Arendelle was the picture of proper elegance, hands clasped before her and back straightened. She stood out like a sore thumb, almost looking like a stranger standing off to the sidelines observing a true loving family of three say their farewells rather than actually being a member of the family. Her shocking white-blonde hair against the reddish-brown hues of their own only seemed to emphasize the oddness of their presence.

And indeed, Elsa was odd. For many years now, for reasons beyond Anna, she had taken to wearing a pair of white silk gloves on her hands all the time – that was, when she hadn't locked herself up in her bedroom. The one time Anna dared to question her sister about it, Elsa had completely clammed up. The reaction had been truly bizarre to the younger girl and if she dared to admit it, it hurt. But Elsa was still her sister, so Anna forgave her. Most of the time.

Now that they were both going to Hogwarts, all Anna wanted was for them to get along. And talk. And be the best-est best friends in the whole world, like they had been when they were little. That wasn't too much to ask for, right?

But by her stiff posture and the small frown on her face, Elsa did not seem to share her sister's desires.

Shaking her head, Anna attempted to resume her cheerful chatter. "I wonder what which of the Hogwarts houses I'll get in! I can barely remember their names though..." She frowned as she wracked her brain, then turned to her sister, eyes hopeful. "Elsa, which one are you in? Sittering? Stitching? Slithering?"

"It's Slytherin, Anna. I was sorted into _Slytherin…"_ Elsa whispered the last word as though it was hard for her to speak it, her jaw going rigid at the same time.

At the sight of their daughter's distress, Agnar and Idun exchanged puzzled expressions. But being the hyperactive, bouncing ball of energy that she was, Anna completely missed her sister's strange reaction. "Slytherin! Let's cross our fingers that I'll be a Slytherin, too! That way we can spend all our time together when we're at school!"

Unsurprisingly, her sister wasn't very encouraging. "There's no guarantee that you will end up in my house. You… You'd do better in any of the other three houses anyway…"

Elsa looked as though she wanted the topic of conversation to end with how her gloves creased in her wringing hands.

Unfortunately, Anna had no intention of letting the subject drop. "No way! If you're in Slytherin, I want Slytherin!" The train whistle blared again and Anna's head instinctively turned towards it. She grinned as she watched people climb aboard, and then swung back around to face her sister "C'mon! You can tell me all about Slytherin on the train!"

The little eleven-year-old darted forward to try and grab hold of her older sisters' hand, but the fourteen-year-old girl took a large step backwards, preventing any type of physical contact between them.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Anna, but I have already promised that I would sit with some other people during the ride to school," she said rather quickly.

Anna blinked, taking in this new information with surprise. "Oh, you planned to meet with your friends? You never mentioned that you had friends at magic school before!" Well, she never mentioned anything about magic school, but it was supposed to be a secret. "Can you introduce me to them?"

But Elsa shook her head. "You should use this time to try and meet some others in your year, Anna. You might make some friends."

"But… But Elsa—"

"Mother, Father?" the older girl said, swiftly turning around to address their parents. "I… I think I'll go on ahead and board the train first. You can help Anna get her trunk on board, right?"

"Of course," said Idun, immediately nodding. "We don't mind at all. Go and find a nice, quiet compartment for yourself and… and your _friends."_

Elsa nodded in return, and then gathered up the edges of her blue dress in her hands to make a nice, respectable curtsy. "I'll see you again when the school year ends…" she said, sounding a little sad.

Agnar smiled. "You'll be fine, Elsa. And remember to always wear your gloves."

"Yes, Father. I'll remember."

"Look after Anna," Idun added. "It's her first year. She knows nothing at all about Hogwarts. Just…" her hands unconsciously wrung themselves together. "Just try to be there for her as much as you can."

There was a brief pause that Anna didn't fully understand, but after a few long, tense seconds, Elsa finally forced herself to nod again. "I will try, Mother."

"Thank you, Darling."

Idun reached out to try and hug her eldest daughter goodbye, but just like when Anna tried to touch her, a flash of panic shined in Elsa's bright blue eyes. She again moved a few paces backward, shuffling towards the trolley with her belongings. "I… I really must be going now, Mother! I… I'm sorry…" she quietly murmured.

Idun's smile turned rather sad from Elsa's rejection to her hug, but she made no comment on it.

Elsa was about to start pushing her cart forward to head onwards to the train by herself, but at the last moment, she paused to glance back over her shoulder to her parents. "I'll miss you both. I'll… I'll write."

She then spun back around and pushed her trolley forward, all but vanishing into the massive crowd surrounding the _Hogwarts Express._

While Agnar and Idun watched Elsa leave, Anna frowned, overwhelming feelings rolling over her. Why did Elsa always do this? And why did her parents not care that Elsa acted so coldly like that? As common place as it was, it was still strange.

Well, it was easier for her to think of it as 'strange' rather than 'downright hurtful.'

"Anna? Dear? Are you all right?"

"Yeah… I'm okay, Mother…" Anna did her best to produce a somewhat happy smile.

But Agnar and Idun knew their daughter well. They could tell she was hurt from how Elsa had left her first train ride to Hogwarts.

"Anna," her father spoke gently. "Elsa loves you. You know that, right?"

Anna huffed at his words. "Does she? She never shows it."

"Elsa is simply different from you, Anna, and she needs her space. But she is your sister, and deep down, she loves you more than anything," Idun said kindly. "She just… She just doesn't know how to show it."

The small strawberry-blonde girl sighed, but then reluctantly nodded in acceptance. "I know, it's just… I… I just wish I knew _why."_

"We'll talk about it another time, Anna," was her father's answer, though it sounded like he was choking a little. "The train will leave soon, and we need to make sure you're on board with your all things before it does. You don't want to miss it, do you?"

"Oh, no! No, of course not, Father!" The girl's eyes flashed in alarm at the thought. "I want to go to Hogwarts more than anything!"

Idun smiled. "Good, good. Shall we go?"

"Oh, I think I can make it to the train myself," Anna said hurriedly. She glanced back out at the crowd which Elsa had disappeared into. If her sister had boarded the train herself, perhaps she should too. She was already eleven, after all. She was grown up enough to look after herself. Noting her parents' surprised expressions, she hastily threw her arms over them both, embracing them tightly.

"Love ya both!" Upon freeing them, she grabbed hold of her trolley and sped off into the crowd. "I'll write!" she called back.

"Be careful, Anna, dear! It's rather—" Idun stepped forward, as if wishing to hold her daughter back, but it was already too late. The small strawberry-blonde girl had vanished in the whirling throng. "Oh, dear…"

"Let her go, Darling," Agnar comforted her. "She'll be just fine. And besides—" he let out a heavy exhale, his shoulders sagging with worry "—between the two, Anna's not the one I'm worried about…"

With her parents left behind, it became obvious to Anna that from here on end, she was on her own. Through the chattering students, the jammed trolleys, and the great piles of suitcases, she struggled to push her trolley towards the train.

How did Elsa make navigating this whirlpool of bodies look so easy? But then again, Elsa had always been nothing short of graceful in everything. From what the little princess had seen earlier, her elder sister had the uncanny ability to avoid making body contact with anyone. When she had steered her trolley cart through the packed mob, she always moved out of the way in time before anyone could bump into her, and not once did her trolley cart accidentally knock into anyone else either.

But Anna was nowhere near as skilled in navigating the crowd as her sister was.

"Oops! Sorry! I didn't mean to bump you— Sir! Sir, please watch your foot…! Please, pardon me, ma'am! I'm just trying to get through!"

No matter which way Anna turned her trolley, there was somehow always a person blocking her path. Apologies were spilling continuously from her lips as she wondered how her sister had managed what could only be a miracle.

As luck would have it, something large and heavy slammed into her back, and she screamed as she toppled forward. Her trolley went flying from her hands, rolling away from her a short way ahead. With nothing to keep her from falling, she slammed face first into the hard ground in front of her.

Well, that was exactly a fortuitous start of the term.

Prying herself off the ground, Anna felt a little annoyed that her runaway cart had not hit anyone else, so she was the only one sprawled on the ground like a fool. So she hastily climbed to her feet, dusting off the dirt from her expensive green dress. Glancing herself over, she was glad to note the lack of cuts, scrapes, or bruises.

Now that the initial shock of the experience had worn off, the red-headed eleven-year-old was more annoyed than anything. A scowl crossed her face as she sought out the culprit responsible.

"Hey! Just what's the big idea?! You... You just..." the Muggle-born girl's words completely trailed off when she finally got a good look at the one she accused.

It was a teenage boy roughly around Elsa's age. He wasn't exactly broad-shouldered or very muscular, but he still had a nice physique. There were a couple of freckles on his nose, and his bright auburn hair had a gentle wave in it, spreading down the sides of his face into sideburns. But it was his eyes that really captured Anna's attention. They were a bright shade of brilliant green, and the concern echoing in them nearly made her go weak in the knees all over again. He was a poetic epitome of the beautiful stranger – tall and fair. Anna's brain lost its concept with reality as she stared up at him, with the curious wish to stuff chocolate in her face.

He appeared quite distraught as he pulled his cart away from her. "I'm so sorry! Are you hurt?"

Anna's small heart all but skipped a beat. His voice held a trace of a slight Danish accent, which was rather attractive actually. And he was talking to her! _Her!_ Oh, if there was indeed some type of divine god watching over her right now, please don't let her embarrass herself with the handsomest, dreamiest boy she had ever met.

"Hey! Uh… uh, no, no. I'm okay," she said in a frenetic rush, letting out a fake giggle.

The handsome older teen, however, seemed to take no notice of her obvious attraction towards him, and quickly maneuvered himself around his cart to see for himself. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah! I… I just wasn't looking where I was going, but… but I'm great actually!"

"Oh, thank goodness." A smile spread across his face, and Anna had to force herself to remember how to breathe. He stared down at her for a moment, just with that smile, before blinking and shaking his head. "Where are my manners?" Bowing, he introduced himself, "I am Prince Hans of the Southern Isles. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, though I shall be eternally regretful that it was—" he eyed his trolley grimly "—in such a manner."

He was a prince? Had he any imperfections? Desperate to make a good impression of her own on this dashing boy, Anna turned on her brightest smile as she dipped down into a quick, polite curtsy.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Princess Anna of Arendelle."

"Princess…?" Now it was Hans' turn to be surprised. "My lady!" He dropped down onto one knee into a deep bow of respect.

Anna flushed deep crimson. "Oh, my! Er... you don't have to…"

"No, please. It's not every day that one is honored by a princess as lovely as yourself." A charming smile appeared as he straightened back up, before he turned a little more grave. "I'd like to formally apologize again for hitting the Princess of Arendelle with my trolley cart and for every moment after."

"No! No-no! It's fine!" Anna chimed in at once. "I'm okay, really! I'm not _that_ Princess! I mean, if you'd hit my sister Elsa, that would've been… well, _yeesh!"_

"Oh?" Hans appeared to be intrigued. "Your Elsa's younger sister?"

She nodded vigorously. "You know her?"

"Yes." There was an odd expression on his face, one that she couldn't decipher. "We happen to be in the same house."

"You're a Slytherin too?!" Anna's jaw fell open. "Oh, wow! Now I have another reason to wanna be in Slytherin!"

"Really?" Hans laughed at that. "You wish to enter Slytherin?"

"Yep! If you and my sister are in it, Slytherin must be the best!"

The older prince chuckled again at the younger girl's words, before glancing back towards the train. "Well, we should board the train before all the compartments get filled." He moved to retrieve his trolley once again, but before moving off, he turned to her, pausing briefly and saying, "It's your first time here, right? Maybe you should stick with me till— _Oww!"_ Something had knocked him hard right on the head.

Anna's blue eyes went wide with shock. As for Hans, he was startled, but his expression was quickly morphing into one of fury. Who in this world had the guts to bop a prince on the head like that?!

The redhead whirled around to face his grinning assailant.

* * *

He was the older child of his family – tall, skinny, fair-skinned, and fourteen. While weaving through the crowds while pushing his luggage cart, he spotted a certain someone up ahead. Upon noticing that the red-headed boy with sideburns had his back turned to him, a mischievous glint twinkled in his eyes.

He briefly turned his head to glance at the two behind him. "I'll be right back! Gotta do something first!"

Without waiting for a reply, the boy pushed his trolley cart with one hand and raised his wooden staff up with the other. The staff greatly resembled a shepherd's crook on the curved end, but it was not to be used for such a purpose now.

It had been a full summer since he'd last seen Hans Westergaard. Now was as good a time as any to say hello. Or rather, give the prince _his_ version of a hello. He snickered to himself as he stepped away from his cart, and snuck up quietly behind Hans. Oh, he couldn't wait to the look on his face after he did this!

He raised the end of his staff, and then proceeded to give the redhead a firm tap on the head. Not hard enough to hurt him, but with definitely enough force to ensure that the wizarding royal felt the action.

The Danish prince cried out when he felt it, spinning furiously around as he clutched at the bump on his head. His mouth opened initially to let out a fierce tirade of curses and shouts, but then he finally got a good look at the one responsible. In less than a second, the infuriated glare morphed into bewilderment.

The mischievous boy snickered as he swung the end of his staff over his shoulder. "What happened to all the clever remarks?"

Incredulity was sketched all over the prince's face. Finally, he said, "Geez… It's been months since you've seen me, and the first thing you do is whack me on the head."

The boy considered the statement, then answered brightly, "Aw, I missed you too!"

"You're impossible, Jack Frost."

"I consider that a compliment." The grin on Jack's face increased ten-fold when he watched his friend roll his eyes.

The redhead shook his head with an exaggerated sigh. "One day, I will get around to killing you."

"Sure, sure. Whatever floats your boat, man."

Some would find their friendship strange – a pure-blood wizard prince and a Muggle-born shepherd boy – but it worked out pretty well. Jack valued his friendship with Hans Westergaard despite their differences. There were very few people in Slytherin house that considered him to be more than an annoying, filthy Mudblood that pulls pranks, and Hans was the best of them. He never seemed to care about Jack's blood status as much as his housemates did. The prince struck up a friendship with Jack back when they were first years, and now, on their way to becoming fourth year students, they were still the best of friends.

"Come, come, Prince Sideburns! Don't pout on me," Jack went on, swinging his arm around his friend's shoulder as he spoke. Hans still appeared to be rather disgruntled, but he didn't shrug the boy off. "Had a good summer?"

The prince's annoyance faded, turning sardonic instead. "As good as it could be, I guess, considering I was stuck with my brothers every second of it and they were jerks."

"I've told you a million times before, haven't I?" Jack let out a dramatic sigh. "Invite me over one day. I'll pull off such a wicked prank, none of them will ever dare to mess with you again!"

Hans sighed. "Yeah, yeah. You've got to remember to write during the breaks, otherwise I won't remember to ask my folks."

"Fine, fine… but remember, I—"

"Who's this, Hans?" Jack blinked, and peered over Hans' shoulder. There stood a small red-haired girl looking up at him with big, curious blue eyes.

"Oh, hey there! I didn't see you!" He released Hans and moved towards her. "You must be Hans' kid sister!"

Hans blinked at Jack's assumption while the small girl squeaked and flushed a bright shade of red. Jack didn't have a clue what made them look so uncomfortable all of the sudden, but he kept his mouth shut on it. This was the first time he had ever met any of his friends' family. He might as well try to make a good impression.

"I'm Jack. Jack Frost." He stuck a hand out. "Hans and I have been friends for years. It's nice to meet you. But I must say, Hans never said anything about having a little sister! What's your name?"

"Oh! Well… uh—"

"Jack, stop hassling people."

The one who spoke was a small girl around Anna's age with hair and eyes just as dark as her older brother's, and dressed in a tatty brown dress. Like Jack, she was pushing a small trolley cart in front of her with all her belongings. She was gazing at Jack with a disapproving look on her face, quite unlike the calm expression on her mother's face, and Jack couldn't help but snicker.

He stepped away from Hans to teasingly ruffle her hair. "Hassling? Now why would I do that, Emmy? This here is Hans! My best friend! I was just saying hello to him and his sister!"

Hans awkwardly chuckled. "Uh, well actually, Jack—"

"Jack! What have I told you about calling me, 'Emmy?!'" snapped the little girl, batting his hand away. "My name is _Emma!"_

Jack amusingly raised a brow. "What, you don't like it when I call you 'Emmy,' _Emmy?"_

Emma growled, stomping her foot. "I'm not five-years-old anymore, Jack! Calling me 'Emmy' makes me sound like a baby!"

"But aren't you acting like one right now?"

"I'm acting mature, unlike you!"

"Throwing a tantrum over a nickname isn't how a mature person would act."

Emma fumed. Her big brother was her hero and best friend, but he drove her nuts with how he called her 'Emmy' all the time! 'Emmy' made her sound like such a little kid! She was eleven now! He should treat her more like a grown up! Why oh why couldn't Jack grow up? "Why you—!"

"Emma and Jackson Frost, behave yourselves!" their mother, Katherine Frost, scolded as she neared them. She was a kindly-looking woman, with gentle gray eyes, auburn hair, and a warm smile. Now, however, she was frowning at her two children. "We're in public, for goodness sake!"

"Sorry, Mom."

"Yeah, sorry…"

Their mother gave them one last cross look, and then planted a smile back on her face as she curtsied politely. "It's nice to finally meet you, Prince Hans. Jack's told me a lot about you, but he never mentioned that you—" she paused to gaze at the small girl with red braids "—had a younger sister, too."

"Oh, uh, Jack's mistaken, actually," Hans began, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. "This is Princess Anna of Arendelle. I just bumped into her right now. We're not related."

"Definitely not," the little princess added vehemently, as if frightened of the very thought.

"Oh…" Jack flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry about that!" In a strangled voice, he added softly, "Kill me now…"

Katherine still looked flustered at the notion of possibly disrespecting members of royalty, but she didn't get the chance to say anything further, as Jack had started speaking again.

"Anna of Arendelle… Hmm… you wouldn't happen to be related to a girl called Elsa, would you?"

"She's my sister!" Anna's whole face lit up. "You know her too?"

Jack chuckled. "Yeah… or rather, I know _of_ her. Never talked to her much. She keeps to herself."

"Where is Elsa, by the way? Shouldn't she be with you?" Hans asked.

"She boarded the train already. She had to meet some friends," Anna answered, sounding rather dejected.

The two boys exchanged silent looks of confusion, with Jack mouthing _'Friends?'._ Hans only frowned and shrugged. They honestly had no idea who Anna could be referring to.

"So," Jack went on, wanting to change the subject, "what year are you in, princess?"

"Just Anna, please," the little girl requested eagerly. Good. She wasn't one of those snobbish blue-bloods. "And it's my first year."

"Really? What a coincidence! Emmy's starting this year, too!"

Emma furiously huffed and stamped her foot. "Jack! It's 'Em- _ma!'_ Not 'Em _-my!'"_

"Whatever. Just say hello, Em."

Emma threw him another quick scowl, but then focused her attention on Anna and smiled. "Hi, I'm Emma. Emma Overland Frost. The younger, but still much more mature Frost sibling."

 _"Hey!"_

"It's an honor to meet you, Anna," she went on, ignoring her brother. "I never thought I'd get to meet a real-life wizard princess."

Anna giggled. "It's nice to meet you too, Emma. But I'm not really a wizard princess. I mean… Well, I got my letter, but my parents can't… aren't… yeah…"

"Oh! You're Muggle-born, like Jack and me?"

"Emmy," Jack nudged her, his smiled abruptly fading. "Don't go around saying stuff like that. It's not polite."

"Oh, it's alright," Anna interjected quickly. "I don't mind." She turned to face the other girl. "Yep, I'm Muggle-born. You can imagine my surprise the day my letter arr—"

She was cut off by the whistle booming across the platform, making them all jump a bit in surprise.

"It's been doing that for a while now," Hans noted. "Perhaps we should get on board."

"I'll miss you, Mom!" Emma said, quickly wrapping her small arms around Katherine's middle. "I wish you could come with us to Hogwarts."

Katherine Frost laughed as she wholeheartedly returned her daughter's hug and softly kissed her hair. "I'll miss you too, Emma. It'll be far too quiet without you or Jack around."

Lingering only a few moments longer in her mother's arms, Emma reluctantly stepped backward a few paces and out of the hug, her lower lip trembling a bit. But before she could burst into tears, Jack turned her head towards him. "Hey, no tears! It'll be alright! I'll protect you from all the big bad witches, Emmy."

"Don't call me Emmy!" She furrowed her brows at him once again, but the twinkle in her eyes betrayed that she wasn't really angry.

"As you wish… Emmy."

Steam poured out Emma's ears as her temper flared, but before she could start snapping at Jack yet again for his use of that awful childish nickname, Jack had already turned his attention to Katherine. He flung his arms around her for a quick hug. "We'll see you again at Christmas, Mom! We wouldn't miss your stuffed turkey and Christmas pudding for the world!"

"I'll look forward to that, but Jack…" she drew herself back to look him in the eye.

"Yeah, Mom?"

"Look after Emma? Even if she doesn't end up in that snake house of yours."

"Of course I will! Don't worry! Big Brother Jack's on the case!"

"And try not to get into trouble this year. If… If I get one more letter saying that you've… oh, I don't know… blown up a toilet or something, I'll—"

"Blown up a toilet? I've never done _that_ before, but great idea! Thanks, Mom!"

"Jackson Frost!"

"I'm kidding! I'm kidding!"

"Good. Now let me hug you properly."

It was a loving gesture no doubt, but Jack made a face as he dropped his staff and struggled to break free from his only parents' strong hold. "Hey! C'mon, Mom! We're right in front of Hans! No mushy stuff!"

Hans had to hide a quick snicker behind his hand at that, which made Jack fight even harder to wriggle out from Katherine's arms, but his efforts only succeeded in making his mother hug him tighter and tighter. "I love you very much, Jack."

Jack groaned, but finally gave up on struggling and returned the hug. "I love you too, Mom."

The wild teenager made an exaggerated sigh of exasperation as Katherine planted one last kiss on his forehead before reluctantly releasing him. "Alright," she sighed, smiling. "Off you go, then."

Waving a final goodbye to their mother, Jack and Emma pushed their trolleys on. Anna and Hans had already gone on ahead towards the entrances to one of the cars. The redhead prince, ever the gentleman, helped the young princess to carry her belongings up the narrow stairs, only for her to blush and stammer that she could do it herself. As her small figure hurried into the carriage, Hans descended back down the steps to approach Emma, doing the same with her luggage as he had with Anna.

Jack immediately snatched his sister's trunk from his friend's hands. "Stop that," he ordered.

Hans blinked. "Stop what?"

"Being such a flirt."

"I'm not a flirt. I'm a prince."

"Those aren't mutually exclusive. You want to help? Then here! You can carry my stuff, Lord Chivalrous." With that, he thrusted his staff and knapsack into the redhead's arms, making him stagger back a few paces. Jack smirked in amusement before turning back to his sister and jerking his head toward the train. "Come on, Emmy. Let's get you on."

"Stop calling me Emmy," the little girl snipped, snatching her trunk back from her brother roughly. "And I'm old enough to carry my own things."

Jack chuckled, thoroughly amused. "Suit yourself," he shrugged. As he watched Emma ascend the steps of the scarlet train, luggage in tow, he was shocked when he felt a hard _thwack!_ strike him right on the head. "Oww!"

"That—" he heard Hans say smugly, waving his staff around to emphasize "—is why you don't go around giving your wands to other people." He paused for a moment, and then added, "Also, revenge is sweet!"

The dark-haired boy rolled his eyes. "This thing just barely functions as a wand as it is," he grumbled, seizing the long, crooked piece of wood back from the Danish prince. "It's far better as a Quidditch broom."

"True," the redhead admitted. With both of the girls already on board, the two boys began unloading their possessions from the trolleys. As he hauled his heavy trunk off his cart, Jack noted that amongst Hans' things was his own broom. Though he was a prince, his broom was an old hand-me-down from the other older Westergaard boys, as evident by the frayed bristles and the chipped wooden body. It had seen Quidditch victories from all of the Hogwarts houses over the years – Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and most recently, Slytherin. "So, what do you think are the odds of us winning the Quidditch Cup this year?"

"Zero to none thanks to the Ginger Demon. What do you think are the odds of her coming down spattergoit?" Jack muttered, struggling to carry his trunk up the train steps.

"Not very likely. She never gets sick – except on test days." As Hans began his ascent into the carriage, he halted abruptly, his gaze focused on something off in the distance. Jack was puzzled, but before he could try and inquire why, his friend jerked his chin forward. "Speak of the devil."

The other Slytherin followed his line of sight to find the Gryffindor girl in question, standing some distance off, thick messy mane of unmistakable red curls. She had her back turned to them since she was deep in conversation with her family.

Jack's pearly white teeth flashed in the light, and then with one last chuckle to himself, he opened his mouth. "Oi! Princess Ugly!"

* * *

But the pure-blooded crown princess of the Scottish, magic-only kingdom of Dunbroch was a brash fourteen-year-old girl whose fiery hair matched her quick temper. The moment she heard the insult, she whirled around, her blue eyes narrowing in on a certain brunette Slytherin boy she so-happened to despise.

"I can't believe you actually responded to that! I guess you _do_ know just how ugly you are!" he cackled while ascending the steps of the train, vanishing inside a moment later alongside his conceited prince of a friend.

Incensed, she screamed, "Arrogant Snake! Get back here and say that to my face, you limey bast—!"

"Merida!" Her mother's voice sharply cut in. "A princess does not use such vile language."

"Ugh! Mum!" The girl scowled, hissing, "You have no idea how annoying he is."

"Regardless, a princess never stoops to the same level of her antagonizers. She speaks only with grace and tact, with the maturity to dismiss such childishness," was her mother's unsympathetic admonishment. "Really, you need to set an example to others of this school. What would they think?"

"Come on, Elinor! It's just the Gryffindor in her," her father defended. "We Dunbroch's have always been proud folk, and no slimy Slytherin should ever get the last word. In fact, I'd like to march over there and give that nasty little worm a taste of my—"

"Fergus!"

"Right…" Her father deflated under his wife's glare. "Sorry, love."

Merida folded her arms across her chest and blew a loose curl from her eyes. Being the princess and successor to the throne was no picnic. Like her bossy mother stated, she had to be the example. She had duties, responsibilities, expectations, along with a tabled schedule of her entire life. The writer of that schedule was her mother, of course, Queen of Dunbroch and now also the Minister of Magic. As if she wasn't already overbearing and controlling enough.

How she loathed being a wizarding princess!

"Oh, and Merida," her mother went on, back to brisk business once again. "The clans are expecting to hear your decision by winter break."

"What?! But Mum—!"

"Merida, it's only a betrothal, not the end of the world. I never had the chance to know your father before our wedding, so you should be grateful to be able to meet and choose your suitors beforehand."

"You mean suitors _you've_ picked out for me," Merida grumbled, folding her arms.

Elinor was not pleased with her daughter's attitude, and her stern defense made it evident. "They are well-born, pure-blood princes and your schoolmates. What more can you ask for?"

It took all the willpower Merida had to bottle her rage up deep inside and not cause a scene in public. She did not want to become betrothed and therefore forced to marry after graduation! She wanted her freedom – to choose her own fate and destiny! When she had told her parents this before, her father was sympathetic. But her mother was completely unmoved, telling her point blank that tradition was tradition. By Christmas break this term, Merida would have to pick her betrothed from three appropriate 'princes' her mother had chosen.

A sudden tugging on the blue fabric of the skirt of her dress snapped Merida out of her furious musings. Three sets of big blue eyes stared up at her impatiently from the faces of three little boys. Their arms were folded across their chests as they glared up at her, waiting impatiently for their older sister to finally say goodbye to them.

"Hamish, Hubert, and Harris," Merida said, her own ill-mood vanishing as she crouched down to embrace them. "I take it you will all miss me while I'm gone?"

The boys on the far left and the middle both nodded at her question, but the one on the far right frowned for a fleeting instant before his scowl reappeared, and then he began glaring daggers at a spot on the ground right near his feet.

"Don't throw a fit, Harris. It's only one more year," she assured the youngest of the trio. "Just you wait! By this time next year, you three will be boarding the train with at least a thousand prank ideas you've all cooked up."

Harris gasped with delight, as did Hamish and Hubert, and within a split second, the trio was exchanging sneaky looks with one another as they started chuckling darkly.

"Merida! Don't go giving the boys ideas," her mother reprimanded her.

Elinor's words made Merida scowl once again as she rolled her eyes.

The queen caught it, brown eyes narrowing. "A princess does not roll her eyes at her superiors. If you don't start acting the way a princess should act, I'll have you transferred to Beauxbatons. Hogwarts has clearly not been a good influence on you – what with all this rebelliousness."

A look of horror rapidly spread across Merida's face. Beauxbatons Academy of Magic? Her mother's posh enchanted finishing school of an alma mater? She couldn't be serious!

"But Elinor, Dunbrochs have been going to Hogwarts for generations. It's tradition!" Thank goodness for her father's defense and using her mother's favorite word. Merida shot him a grateful look.

Her mother however was undaunted. "It'd be good for her to have the etiquette classes that Hogwarts clearly lacks. That, and less unruly sports." She eyed Merida's Quidditch broom with obvious distaste. Of course, her mother never appreciated her participation in Quidditch, or in the Dueling Club. Or Enchanted Weaponry. Or even Muggle Studies.

"Merida! Merida! Over here!"

Merida spun around, an eager smile quickly replacing the dark look she had been sporting. Running towards her while pushing her trolley cart was a fellow fourth year Gryffindor girl. Her blonde braid was bouncing about down her back as she hurried toward the Scottish royal family.

Merida immediately waved her hand high over her head to make sure the girl in the spiked skirt and shoulder-guards could see her greeting above the heads of people still moving about in the crowd. "Astrid! Hi!"

Astrid Hofferson – half-blood, hot-blooded, Gryffindor to the core, and of course, Merida's very best friend.

Oh, and she was also a Viking, which was why both of the Scottish monarchs were now frowning pointedly.

"Merida," her mother began severely.

Merida scrunched up her face in displeasure. "Why are you always going on about her, Mum? She isn't like the Vikings that Dad fights."

"But she's a Viking nonetheless," Elinor argued. "If these are the kind of people you choose to associate with, it's no wonder your behavior's becoming steadily barbaric."

"I hate to say it, lass, but your mother's right," said Fergus, clapping a hand down on his daughter's shoulder as he shook his head. "Vikings are vicious folk. You best stay clear of them."

Merida opened her mouth to contest these remarks, but closed it shortly after. For three years now, she had tried time after time to change their minds about her friend, but to no avail. It didn't matter that Astrid was decent, honest, and downright brilliant at Quidditch. It didn't matter that she was from one of the more peaceful tribes from the magical Barbaric Archipelago. Astrid was still a Viking, and that automatically meant that she was evil.

"If you don't want to see her, then I'm going on ahead," she said at last, moving forward to embrace her father and plant a kiss on his cheek. "Bye, Dad."

"Have a good term, my wee lass!" the Scottish king laughed, squeezing her tightly in his muscular arms. "Destroy those Slytherins!"

"Fergus!"

Ruffling her brothers on their heads for a brief farewell, Merida paused as she drew up to her mother. Tensions ran deep between the two of them these days. She remembered back in her first year, she had clung Elinor's waist with all her might and bawled when it had been time to go. Things had really changed.

"Have a good journey and see you soon, your highness," her mother said to her, firmly and formally.

Merida knew how she was supposed to respond. Her mother had been ramming etiquette lessons down her throat for a reason. Lifting her skirt slightly, she made a small curtsy. "Thank you, your majesty. I wish you well on your return home as well."

A rare smile appeared on Elinor's lips for the first time since they arrived on the platform.

It promptly disappeared however when Merida took off in a fast sprint into the crowd, unkept red hair flying everywhere as she whooped in a very unladylike manner.

The queen sighed, and then turned to murmur sourly to her husband, "I don't understand that girl."

Fortunately, Merida was too eager to reunite with her best friend to hear her mother's complaint. With the enmity between their kingdoms, it had been impossible for them to visit each other during the holidays. There was so much to catch up on.

"Astrid!" she called out as she skidded to a halt before the blonde-haired Viking girl with her trolley.

The blonde grinned wholeheartedly as her best friend at Hogwarts other than her fellow female Viking friend from her village appeared before her, and quickly high-fived the pure-blood witch. "Merida! Great to see you! How was your summer?"

"Oh, you know," Merida shrugged. "Princess lessons with my mum. The bane of my life."

"Ugh. Sounds awful. I don't know how I'd survive if I had to learn etiquette."

"Yeah, well, now I'm facing an even _bigger_ problem thanks to my mother. She's forcing me to choose a fiancé already!"

Astrid stared at her with wide, shocked eyes. "What?! So soon?! But… we're still in school! You haven't even graduated yet!"

At that point of time, Merida noticed from the clock tower at the station that it was almost time for the train to depart. The crowds around the train started to thin out, with most students already on board. "C'mon," she said, nodding towards the carriage nearest to them. "I'll tell you all about it on the train."

As they scuttled quickly up to the carriage door, they suddenly heard a sharp wolf-whistle. Both their heads immediately swung around in the direction of its source, which was none other than Slytherin's resident playboy, Flynn Rider. Noting the two girls glancing his way, the dark-haired youth waggled his eyebrows suggestively while making a lewd gesture with his hands.

The two Gryffindor girls narrowed their eyes, muscles tensing as they watched the boy lift his trunk off his trolley while making his way to a different carriage. He didn't heed their warning expressions, however, and threw them a mocking kiss.

Merida's temper fumed. "Did you bring your sword?" she muttered to her friend.

"Better." Astrid kicked open one of her trunks with her leather boot. As the lid popped open, she used the tip of her foot to kick her axe up into the air, catching it deftly in her strong hands. Merida grinned as she yanked out her bow from her knapsack, drawing a few arrows from her quiver.

The girls didn't need to exchange words before simultaneously launching themselves forward, weapons brandished and screaming fury at their now thoroughly terrified offender.

* * *

As the two unlikely best friends continued yelling war cries while they dashed towards the flirtatious Slytherin fourth year, they were completely oblivious to the fact that they were being watched.

Or rather, that Astrid was being watched.

Okay, that sounded creepy. But it wasn't really. He had nothing but respect and admiration for her – honest to Thor!

A scrawny fourteen-year-old boy with a freckly face and a faint white scar just below his bottom lip gazed out of the window from his compartment. He had a thick mop of rich auburn hair covering his head, with bangs that he kept needing to brush away. A longing smile strayed on his face as his bright green eyes followed every movement that the blonde Viking girl made.

After all, Astrid Hofferson was the bravest, strongest fourth year witch amongst all of the students who came from the magical Viking island of Berk in the Barbaric Archipelago – not to mention the prettiest, too. It was no wonder then he had been crushing on her for as long as he could remember.

Of course, she was ignorant to how he felt about her, and she would continue to be so. Even though he was the son of their village chief, he knew he was no catch. After all, he was an embarrassment, a subpar wizard, and a hiccup. That was his name, actually.

No, not 'subpar wizard,' or 'embarrassment.' _Hiccup._ As in ' _Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III.'_

Great name, he knew. But it wasn't the worst. Viking parents believe a hideous name would frighten off gnomes and trolls – like their charming Viking demeanor wouldn't do that.

Seriously, he knew his dad didn't exactly have high hopes for him, but _'Hiccup?'_

His shoulders sagged at the thought, and he couldn't help but sigh. "What am I thinking?" he mumbled to himself. "She wouldn't come near me even if she was on fire and I had the only bucket of water in the world."

"Talking to your reflection, squib? And here I thought you couldn't sink any lower!"

The obnoxious remark made Hiccup groan, and he turned away from the window to gaze as the speaker.

"What? Can't a guy admire his own good looks?" he drawled sarcastically.

The other boy, a fourteen-year-old with dark brown hair sitting in the seat across from him, sneered at him. "Good looks? What good looks, Useless? You're a walking fishbone! Dragons would use you to pick their teeth!"

It was Snotlout Jorgensen, his idiotic cousin – not that they ever acted like family. Though in Gryffindor like Astrid, he lacked decency and fair play. Interaction with him compromised largely of obnoxious boasting and sloppy name-calling.

"A walking fishbone?" Hiccup raised a brow and sighed, turning away. "As always, Snotlout, your insults are the pinnacle of creativity."

His cousin frowned, trying not to reveal his confusion about the statement. "Well, you…" he stuck a finger out at him, paused, then folded his arms. "…you're a stupid Hufflepuff squib!"

This earned cackles from the Thornston twins, who would honestly laugh at a rock given the opportunity. If foolishness was the primary trait of Gryffindors, they'd be the pride of their house. Fishlegs Ingerman, the last of the students from Berk, did not react to Snotlout's unimpressive jibe, but did not add anything in the Hufflepuff's defense either. He kept his eyes on his book and continued reading, like a smart Ravenclaw should.

"Thanks for the reminder," Hiccup murmured, trying to suppress feelings of hurt. He should have been used to these by now.

Apparently, being a Hufflepuff on Berk was considered worse than having all your appendages chopped off before being hurled in shark-infested waters. Vikings were daring, strong, brutish, loud, obstinate, and blatantly unhygienic – everything that Hiccup was not. Perhaps it made sense that he belonged to the throwaway house. He was quite disposable, after all.

"Hey, squib! Did you even hear what I just said?!"

Hiccup rolled his eyes as he focused back on Snotlout. "I hear you. I'm just not listening," he drawled.

As expected, his cousin blinked at him stupidly. "Huh?"

"Forget it. It's nothing."

"Whatever, I was just wondering if you wanted to get in on the bet!"

"Bet?" Hiccup repeated, now giving Snotlout his full and undivided attention. "What bet?"

"We're betting on which of us will get to slay the Monstrous Nightmare in class!" said Ruffnut eagerly.

Dragon Fighting Class was somewhat of notorious elective in Hogwarts. Some thought it dangerous and others unnecessary. For Berkian students, however, the former was expected and the latter was untrue. Ever since the first Viking wizards had claimed the Isle of Berk as their home, they had been plagued by dragons attacking the island. Although the villagers would always drive them away, and there had been countless times that Aurors from the Ministry had visited the island to try and assist in the situation, the dragons would always return, flying off with livestock and fish, destroying houses, supplies and… families. Like his own.

That was how his mother died – a dragon raid when he was a baby. That was all he knew about her and honestly, that was probably for the best. It was hard enough on Hiccup knowing that he was a failure as a son and heir to his father.

Tuffnut, the male twin of the Thornstons, nodded, a cocky grin making its way across his lips. "Minimum fee to get in on the pool is five Galleons. Care to wager more?" He jingled the coins in his hand enticingly. "Winner gets the dough from losers after Gobber makes the announcement."

"Tuff, remember to call him _Professor_ Gobber from now on," Fishlegs cut in. "He is going to be our teacher this year, so we have to address him respectfully."

Gobber the Belch was Berk's resident blacksmith and forger of enchanted weapons. He was also Hiccup's master and Hiccup had been working for him since he was little. Well, _littler._ While the work at the forge was difficult, the boy did enjoy his work as an enchanted blacksmith. Especially when he could sneak snippets of conversation in with an otherwise ignorant-of-him Astrid. The girl needed to sharpen her axe somewhere.

But Gobber wasn't just the island's blacksmith. He also doubled as a teacher at Hogwarts to teach kids dragon fighting. It'd been quite a while since he last taught, really, but now that Hiccup and the others were fourth years, he had volunteered to take up the position at the school once again. Hiccup was glad that Gobber was going to be coming with them. With him around, he wouldn't have to go through his entire fourth year of school the same way he had for the past three, completely alone and friendless. And he was finally going to learn how to fight dragons, become a true Viking, make his dad proud, and maybe even get a date.

Okay, okay, let's not get ahead of himself.

Hiding his excitement, Hiccup asked them in a neutral tone, "How much are you guys betting? And on who?"

Ruffnut grinned as she held up a handful of rather large, solid gold coins and a few mid-sized pure silver ones, cheekily declaring, "Seven Galleons and five Sickles says that anyone other than Tuff fights the Monstrous Nightmare!"

"Oh, yeah?" Her brother fumed, and promptly dug his fist into his pocket until he fished out more of his own wizarding cash. "Well I bet nine Galleons and four Knuts that anyone other than Ruff fights it!"

Ruffnut promptly slapped the back of his head. Before the two of them could start up one of their usual sibling fistfights, Fishlegs spoke up, "I… I can't bet much, but I say Astrid has the best chance out of all of us. Six Galleons and five Sickles."

It wasn't a lot of money Fishlegs was betting, but dough was dough. Astrid was the best fighter out of all of them back home.

"Astrid's bound to do well. She's going to be the best out of all of us one day," Hiccup commented, smiling wistfully as he thought about all the times he'd watched his crush train with her enchanted axe out in the forest back on Berk. Okay, so this was starting to get a _little_ creepy… "She'll be a great Auror one day!"

Fishlegs nodded and the twins smiled, Ruff's being twice as big as Tuff's. As the only other girl in their group back home, she and Astrid were very close. "'Course she will! Actually, I change my bet! Astrid's going to win!"

"I'm changing mine to Astrid too, but I'm increasing my bet!" Tuff cut in. "Twelve Galleons and eight Knuts!"

"Oh, yeah?! Then I'm increasing mine, Tuff!" Ruff snapped. _"Fifteen Galleons!_ Fifteen Galleons and eleven Sickles!"

Tuff's eyes nearly popped right out of his head. "Fifteen?! Damn, Ruff! Are you trying to bankrupt me?!"

"Maybe I am. Why? Can't afford to bet higher?" Ruff asked, sounding more than a bit haughty as she spoke.

Her twin growled with rage, but before he could say anything, a polite knock resounded on their compartment door, and all thoughts of anger flew right out of his head as everyone's heads curiously turned toward the sliding glass door.

"Is that Astrid?" Fishlegs questioned. "I thought she said she was going to sit with that Scottish princess."

"She did," Hiccup confirmed, rising to his feet. "Maybe she changed her mind?"

He carefully moved forward while avoiding stepping on anyone's toes, and slid the door open. Turns out, it wasn't Astrid who knocked. Instead, the smiling Trolley Witch with her cart of candies and sweets stood before them. She apparently decided to get an early start this year in moving up and down the train selling her confections if she was doing it right now, before the train had even left the station.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?" she asked them.

All at once, everyone swarmed around the cart as they picked out their favorite snacks and forked over their money. Having plenty Galleons and Sickles jingling about in his pocket – he might be his island's village chief loser, but he was still the _chief's_ son – Hiccup bought himself plenty of Chocolate Frogs. While the enchanted frogs were neat and he loved the chocolate, it was the magical collectible cards inside that he really wanted. He'd been collecting the Famous Witches and Wizards Cards ever since he was a kid, and he had never quite shaken the habit.

As the kind elderly witch pushed her cart onwards, Hiccup reclaimed his seat by the window and dumped his load of treats right next to him. He prepared to tear open the packaging of one, only to find his snack abruptly snatched right out of his hand.

"Hey!"

Snotlout smirked as he clutched his cousins' sweet in his meaty fist. "What do you need so many of the stupid frogs for, Useless? It's not going to build up any real muscle."

Hiccup's ears burned as Ruffnut and Tuffnut burst out laughing again.

"C'mon! You know I collect the cards!" the auburn-haired Hufflepuff snapped. "You got yourself plenty Pumpkin Pasties! Give it back!"

He lunged forward to snatch the Chocolate Frog out of his hand, but Snotlout was much too quick. Being much taller than Hiccup, he swiftly leapt to his feet, and waved the candy mockingly over Hiccup's head.

"Oh, right! I forgot you're such a baby!" the Jorgensen laughed. "Card collecting! Baby Hiccup! You know, I'm surprised you haven't been featured on a card yet, as the world's most useless Viking wizard in history!"

Hiccup's whole face was scarlet at this point with both shame and anger, and the fact that the twins were about ready to fall out of their seats at this point from how hard they were laughing. Even Fishlegs had to completely turn his humongous body around to cough away his own chuckles.

"Tell you all what," the arrogant Gryffindor crowed between his chortles. "Fifteen Galleons and eleven Sickles says that Squib kid won't last more than five minutes in the ring in every class!"

"That's not even worth betting on. We all know it's going to happen!"

Mocking laughter echoed off the walls, rattling in Hiccup's eardrums. The minor irritation he had felt for his cousins' usual teasing was morphing into red hot fury and he spoke before he could stop himself.

"Twenty."

It was only one word. One short, almost whispered word considering how quietly Hiccup had uttered it, but it was so unexpected, a sudden hush fell over everyone as soon as they heard it.

Snotlout stared at him in confusion. "Huh?"

"Twenty," Hiccup repeated, his fists starting to shake from how mad he was. "Twenty Galleons, ten Sickles, and twelve Knuts."

Snotlout was still puzzled. "You want me to up my bet to that? Really, if this is your way of showing me up—"

"No. Twenty Galleons, ten Sickles, and twelve Knuts that _I_ face the Monstrous Nightmare. Not Astrid."

There was a long, shocked silence as the other four stared at him in utter disbelief. Then laughter twice as loud and obnoxious as the hilarity flooded the small compartment.

"Ha! You, Hiccup?! _You?!"_ Tuffnut choked out between his laughs.

Ruffnut slapped her knees as she laughed herself silly. "That's a good one, Hiccup! You're a real joker!"

Fishlegs had given up any form of politeness by now and was giggling sheepishly. "Er, Hiccup…? You…? Fight…?"

Snotlout was bent over, cradling his stomach as tears poured out from his eyes. Hiccup had never seen his cousin guffawing this madly. "You, loser squib?! Fighting the dragon?! In the _final exam?!"_ he gasped out, having to stop for a few seconds when he struggled to regain his breath. "Oh… Oh, wow! Ruff's right! That's… That's the best thing I ever heard! _Ever!"_

Hiccup brows furrowed, not amused. "I'm serious!"

They didn't believe him. They just keep laughing.

"Sure, you are, cousin! Sure, you are!" Snotlout says, calming down enough to talk without choking himself between his continuous snorting. "You want to throw away all that money by betting on yourself, then be my guest!" He shook his head in amusement at the infuriated look on Hiccup's face as he began absentmindedly undoing the wrapper of the Chocolate Frog. "It's easy money for all of us, after all! Just remember, you have to have pay _each_ of us that amount, so be ready to lose it all when— _Ahh!"_

He had been so busy prattling on, he hadn't noticed the chocolate packaging moving about. Chocolate Frogs were delicious to eat, but before they were consumed, they were enchanted to act like real frogs. The moment Snotlout had successfully removed the wrapper from the candy, the enchantment activated. The frog hopped right from his hand and right down the front of his shirt.

Snotlout shrieked, hopping all around the cubicle like a lunatic as he clutched his clothes. Everyone started laughing at him now, even Hiccup. It was nice to see Snotlout getting what he deserved for once.

As Ruffnut, Tuffnut, and Fishlegs kept on laughing as Snotlout's frantic hopping around led to him accidentally slipping and falling out of the compartment to land face first on the floor of the train corridor, Hiccup swiped the candy wrapper off the ground and sat back down in his seat, yanking out the moving picture card tucked away inside the wrapper. While Snotlout continued hopping around and howling in the background, he flipped it over to see who it was he got.

 _Newton 'Newt' Artemis Fido Scamander_

 _Order of Merlin, Second Class_

 _Regarded as one of the most famous Hufflepuff's of all time and the world authority on magical creatures, Newt Scamander is a famed Magizoologist and the author of **Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them** , which has been an approved textbook at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry since its publication and can be found in most wizarding households._

Hiccup's mood instantly sobered when he saw the moving picture of the smiling wizard and read his bio in the description printed below. He knew this card well. He had so many copies of the damn thing that he couldn't he even trade them away anymore.

Newt flippin' Scamander. The only Hufflepuff in history other than the legendary Helga Hufflepuff to actually make a name for himself.

Two respected Hufflepuffs in the last hundred of years of wizard history.

 _Two_ in _hundreds_ of years.

The likelihood that he would ever amount to being anything as noteworthy as them was probably non-existent.

Hiccup sighed, and tuned out the commotion the others were making. He let the collectible card slip out of his fingers and land on his lap as he gazed miserably out the window. Why couldn't he ever outrun the curse of his house?

Every other student who was boarding this train today had parents standing out there on the platform ready to wave goodbye to them with smiles on their faces as soon as the train left the station.

But not him.

No, not him. Not when his father was too ashamed to acknowledge him as his Hufflepuff of a son.

* * *

She had just moments ago boarded the train, and was now dutifully following the only family she had in the world. Her trunk, full of books, paints, brushes, and several blank sketchpads, was so heavy that she had to drag it behind her through the carpeted corridors, only stopping when her suitcase snagged onto the end of her hair.

Ah, yes. Her blonde hair. It was tightly braided together all the time whenever she had to leave her tower so as to hide the true length. When braided, it only reached the ends of her ankles, but when let loose from the hairstyle, it was over seventy feet long.

"Are there any open compartments left, Mother?" she asked, her bright green eyes searching the cubicles around them, tugging the gold strands free at the same time.

"Let's hope there are, Flower. Heaven forbid if there aren't! You know I dislike having to sit amongst—"

A sudden boyish shriek from the compartment they were passing suddenly echoed about in the corridor, and less than a second later, a muscular boy unexpectedly fell right out from it, landing right on his face with a loud 'oomph!' While the young Ravenclaw girl was taken aback by this, her mother, a tall, voluptuous woman with flawless ivory skin and ebony black curly hair, immediately shrieked.

"Ugh! What on earth—?!"

She was cut off when rambunctious laughter drifted out from the compartment the boy just fell out of, especially when said leapt back up on his feet and unexpectedly stripped his shirt off.

The girl gawked at what she was witnessing, but before she could begin voicing her confusion, she found her mother's hand slapped over her eyes.

"Snotlout Jorgensen!" she heard her mother shriek. "Just what do you think you're doing, stripping like this in front of my flower?! Have you no shame at all?! That's ten points from Gryffindor, and we're not even at school yet! Now, put your clothes back on!"

The laughter echoing out from the compartment grew in volume from her words, but her daughter had no idea what the boy did in response for several seconds because of her mother's hand covering her eyes. It was several seconds before the Gryffindor boy groaned in annoyance.

"You can't tell me what to do, you stupid Squib! You're no better than the loser back in the cabin!"

All at once, the girl felt surges of fury flood her being, and she immediately ripped her mother's hand off her eyes, much to the woman's horror.

"Rapunzel—!"

"Don't talk to my mother that way!" she snapped, temper flared, ignoring the fact that she was looking at a half-undressed male student. It wasn't that impressive, anyway. "She might not have magic, but she's worth more in this world than you will ever be!"

Rapunzel Gothel was considered many things by her Squib mother: sloppy, underdressed, immature, clumsy, gullible… but the one thing she always stressed above all else was of how naïve she was. And in this case, her mother's opinion of that turned out to be correct, because after recovering from his momentary surprise of her challenging him, the rude Viking wizard cruelly sneered at her.

"She's a filthy Squib! And you're nothing more than her stupid kid! Even if you are a Ravenclaw!"

Rapunzel wished his words didn't hurt, but they did, and it took everything she had to not do anything other than biting her lower lip to outwardly show that what he said bothered her. She ought to be used to this by now, people in school teasing her for being the daughter of the only Squib teacher on staff, but even though she was about to start her fourth year, the insults still stung as hard as they did the first time the bullying began when she was eleven.

Then suddenly – thwack! – and the boy was sporting a red mark on his cheek. He clutched it, looking almost as if he was about to cry.

"Get out of my sight, Gryffindor scum." Her mother's voice was deadly as arsenic, pulling Rapunzel behind her as she glared down at the boy. "And that's another five points from your churlish house."

The boy scuttled quickly inside his train compartment, slamming the sliding frosted glass-pane door behind him so hard that the entire thing rattled.

"Beastly! Just beastly! And no respect whatsoever!" Gothel fumed, turning her nose up to the compartment containing all the Viking teens. "No better than savages, they are! And to think you want to go to school with people like _them!"_

Rapunzel sighed. Her attending Hogwarts was always a source of conflict between them. "Mother… Mother, well… I still, well… I mean, I have to—"

"Rapunzel, stop with the mumbling! You know how I feel about mumbling," Gothel interrupted as she rotated her wrist. _"Blah, blah, blah, blah…_ it's very annoying!"

The girl shrank back a bit at this, gaze dropping to the floor.

Her mother groaned dramatically. "Oh, Darling! I'm just teasing. Stop taking everything so seriously. Now, come, come! Let's find a quiet compartment, shall we?"

"Yes, Mother."

She hurried along after Gothel down the hall while struggling with her trunk, pretending that the little tease didn't sting just as much as Snotlout Jorgensen's words had. That's what a dutiful daughter would do, after all. She loved her mother, and her mother undoubtedly loved her too. It had always been just the two of them. Mother might have been born a Squib, but there was no one Rapunzel loved more than her mother.

Well, that was not completely… accurate. There was indeed a special being that the long-haired Ravenclaw girl treasured dearly. But that had to be kept a secret! Her mother would _never_ approve of him!

They wandered on down the narrow passageway for some time, searching relentlessly for an empty cabin, but their efforts were to no avail. They had left their tower home later than usual this time because Rapunzel had forgotten to pack the last of her paint sets the night before, and the consequences of that were being paid in full now.

"Mother? I don't think we're going to find a completely empty compartment at this point," Rapunzel said after at least five minutes of fruitless searching. "We're going to have share with it."

There was a brief pause, and then Gothel sighed in acceptance. "Sadly, you're right, Flower. I'd prefer for us to sit alone so as to keep you away from those hellions a little longer, but there most likely aren't any empty cabins left. Let's find one that's not too crowded, at least."

Rapunzel nodded, and their search resumed. It took them a few more minutes, but at last, they came across a compartment that had only one girl sitting in it.

"Here, Mother. This one looks good," Rapunzel pointed out.

Gothel's ruby lips smiled in accordance as she purposefully stepped forward, and slid open the door to the girl's compartment without bothering to knock.

The platinum blonde-haired girl jumped in her seat the moment the door opened, her head whipping up to face the curly-haired professor as she slipped inside, Rapunzel still trailing along quietly behind her.

"We'll be sharing your compartment. No empty one's left," announced Gothel, waving her hand dismissively to the platinum blonde as she planted herself in the plush seat right across from her.

As Rapunzel prepared to lift her trunk to store it in the overhead luggage rack, she caught a glimpse of the other girl's frozen face.

"Oh! Hello, Elsa! It's good to see you!" she said kindly. "How was your summer?"

The crown princess of Arendelle didn't reply right away. She just squeezed her gloved hands together rather tightly in her lap, and then nodded politely to her.

"My summer was just fine, thank you… If you'll both excuse me, Rapunzel, Professor Gothel, I'll be leaving then. I don't wish to disturb either of you."

She quickly stood up and pulled her school trunk down from the luggage rack.

"You don't have to go!" Rapunzel immediately protested. "You're more than welcome to stay!"

"No, I insist," was the emotionless objection. Turning towards the elder woman, she added, "I'm looking forward to your class, Professor Gothel. I might be Muggle-born, but I still enjoy Muggle Studies very much."

Gothel nodded back, a small smile gracing her lips. "Yes, I know. Be seeing you then, your highness."

Elsa curtsied politely, and then swept out of the carriage with her school trunk without another word.

Rapunzel couldn't help but watch her go with a sad expression. Considering how she had never been able to make friends at Hogwarts, it would have been nice if Elsa had stayed. It would be nice to have a friend. Just one. That wasn't too much to ask, right?

"Rapunzel, don't just stand there. Put away your trunk and come sit by me."

"Oh, of course, Mother."

It took the poor girl a few minutes' worth of struggling to lift her extremely heavy suitcase, but finally, she managed to summon enough strength to get the trunk safely in the overhead rack. She dropped herself in the window seat right across from Gothel, panting heavily.

"You should have realized just how heavy it was going to be by packing all your hobbies with your necessities," her mother told her without looking up from her compact mirror. She always carried one in the pocket of her cloak. "You should have listened to me last night."

"I know, Mother," Rapunzel said, subdued. "You were right. I'm sorry."

Seeing the sad expression on her daughter's face made Gothel sigh, and she leaned forward, gently stroking the top of Rapunzel's head. "I'm only trying to protect you, my Flower. You know that, right?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Good, good. You know the old saying, right? Mother knows best," Gothel said, a subtle smirk on her lips as she ran her long fingers through Rapunzel's long, blonde hair. "I love you very much, my Flower."

Rapunzel smiled, and leaned forward a bit more to fully hug her in return. "I love you more."

"I love you most."

Rapunzel's smile seemed to grow twice as big after her mother said that last bit. It was something they'd been doing since she was a child, that little 'I love you' game. Mother's tongue could be rather cutting, so it was nice to get a little assurance every now and then.

Speaking of which, now was as good a time as any to bring up a certain subject she'd been skirting around for a while now.

"So… anyways, Mother, there's something I want to talk to you—"

"Rapunzel? Mother's feeling a little run down," Gothel interjected, touching the back of her hand to her forehead. "I think I might take a nap. We can talk after the feast tonight. You don't mind, do you?"

"No, not at all." Rapunzel's hopes sunk, but she refused to let her feelings show. Instead, she forced her face to remain frozen in the happy smile she had had before. "Please rest, Mother."

Gothel smiled approvingly, before leaning her head against the window. It took her a few minutes of maneuvering about to find a comfortable position, but at last, she relaxed. Soon after, she was out like a light.

Under normal circumstances, Rapunzel would have felt rather depressed by how Gothel brushed her off, but not this time. In fact, she felt a little relieved.

Besides, she had someone else she could speak with. Her one and only true-blue friend in all the world. "Coast is clear. You can come out now."

A light chittering noise sounded throughout the compartment, and a tiny green reptilian head poked its way out from Rapunzel's pocket. The little chameleon skittered its way up the pink fabric to rest on the blonde girls' shoulder, nuzzling its scaly head against her neck.

Rapunzel giggled as she held out her hand to the chameleon so it could hop aboard. "Hey, Pascal! You weren't lonely while in my pocket all this time, were you?"

The green chameleon promptly shook his tiny head. Pascal had been her companion for as long as she could remember. Though she was awkward and clumsy, Pascal never minded. Gothel never found out about him since she wasn't fond of enchanted animal pets. Still, her friendly unofficial companion was always there for her.

"Sorry that I had to keep you in there for so long. But we can't let her see you. You know that."

The chameleon shook his head, before eyeing her pointedly.

"I know, I know… I tried to ask her," the girl defended. "You heard me…"

The little green reptile's hard gaze didn't waver.

"Oh, come on, Pascal. It's not like I planned on her taking a nap. I'm not trying to put off talking about dropping her class, honest!"

Pascal rolled his eyes at that, and Rapunzel couldn't help but sigh. She loved Pascal dearly, but her sweet little friend didn't understand how hard it was for her to argue with her mother. She didn't want Gothel to think she was an ungrateful daughter, especially since it was hard enough raising an unusually gifted magical child. But Gothel was quite overprotective. She had made it clear that the second Rapunzel graduated, they would return to their tower in Corona, where they would live out the rest of their lives, away from the world. End of story.

Well, that wasn't what Rapunzel wanted. Instead of taking her mother's Muggle Studies classes this year, she wanted to take the elective class Medi-Wizardry. Because of her unique magical abilities, taking such a course could be highly beneficial. She might even get a job in the field one day!

The problem was convincing her mother to let her switch classes.

"This year won't be like last year, Pascal," Rapunzel said suddenly, surprising the small creature with this out of the blue declaration. "I'll talk to her tonight, after the feast. I'll convince her to let me switch. Just wait and see! This year," she clenched her free hand to her heart, talking more to herself now, "—this year will be when my life finally begins!"

* * *

Elsa walked as quickly down the train corridor with her school trunk as she could, seeking out an empty compartment. She prayed that she wouldn't accidentally stumble upon Anna, lest the girl realize that she was in fact not with any 'friends,' as she had claimed earlier.

She couldn't really have friends, because having friends required her to be in their company, and being in other people's company only put them in danger. She couldn't risk it – the lives of other people, and exposing what a monster she truly was.

She had to go all the way to the end of the train to find an empty compartment. She swept into the cabin without a word, making sure to slide the door shut behind her before shoving her trunk away into the overhead rack. She settled herself down in the seat right by the window in the nick of time, too, for less than a second later, the entire train jolted forward, beginning to roll away from the station.

She could hear other students pulling down the windows of their compartments and shouting goodbye. Loved ones on the platform waved back enthusiastically, some even sobbing. Elsa didn't do this, for safety reasons, but she did catch a glimpse of Agnar and Idun in the crowd. They didn't notice her right away, being too busy waving and yelling something to Anna further down the train. They were laughing until they noticed her, and their expressions returned to kind, yet worried. Agnar immediately pointed to one of his hands and Elsa nodded to show she understood. Appeased, her father smiled gently while her mother blew her a kiss, and that was the last thing she saw before Platform 9 and 3/4 vanished from view.

With a small sigh, Elsa looked away from Muggle London whizzing past the window, and shifted her attention down to her gloved hands. Even though they were covered, they felt cold, and that always made her scared.

"Don't let them in," she whispered to herself, her hands balling up into tight fists. "Don't let them see. Be the good girl you always have to be. Conceal, don't feel… Put on a—"

Her mantra was interrupted when a loud cracking sound rumbled above her head. Startled by the sudden noise, she looked up. What she saw both shocked and terrified her.

Right above her head was a lone crack in the ceiling, one that hadn't been there when she first entered the cabin. How and why that had happened was a puzzlement to the young Slytherin girl, but it wasn't her primary concern. No, what she was focused on was the thin sheet of ice that was coated right over the ceiling crack.

Ice. How it haunted her… Tormented her at her every turn…

There was nothing Elsa wouldn't do to rid herself of her godforsaken, unexplainable ice magic.

With a thick, nervous gulp, Elsa forced herself to look away from the minor accident, squeezed her hands into two tight fists on her lap, and continued repeating her mantra. "C-Conceal it, don't feel it… Don't let _anyone_ know…"


	2. The Sorting Ceremony

**Elphaba818's Author Note:**

 **Hey, welcome back to chapter two! SharKohen and I are both so happy that you readers are continuing to read our story! Shar has no AN today unfortunately, but that's okay! I'm sure most of you are electing to skip reading this AN note anyway, lol! :P**

 **I would also like to thank everyone who was kind enough to favorite and follow 'Magic Intertwined' even though all you read so far was just the opening chapter. Thanks so much! But I would like to give a special shout out to the three people who went the extra mile and reviewed:**

 **\- Guest (Please leave a name next time for future shout outs!)**

 **\- telliaquoxe**

 **\- Cloud4012**

 **You guys were so awesome to leave such nice messages! Hope you keep reading!**

 **That goes for everyone, actually. All you dear readers, enjoy the chapter! And please leave a nice review for Shar and me when you're done! :D**

* * *

 **Chapter Two: The Sorting Ceremony  
**

Her fingers drummed impatiently on the wood of the table.

"How much longer do we have to wait?"

"No clue. But they better hurry up."

"I'm starving! They better bring in the first years soon so we can eat. And I want to hear about Quidditch tryouts!"

"Sucks that we still have to try out for the team. Since we're the top players, we should be guaranteed spots on the team this year."

"If only it worked that way, Astrid. If only it worked that way…"

Astrid rolled her eyes, but Merida knew she wasn't really annoyed. Truth be told, she wasn't either. Quidditch tryouts were always fun, and the two of them always dominated the Quidditch pitch every year. The likelihood that the Gryffindor team captain this year would find a better Beater than the half-blood Viking girl or better Chaser than the pure-blood Scottish princess were slim to none.

There was a dull pause in the conversation as the two friends both glanced back to the enormous doors that led back out to the Entrance Hall, waiting for them to open any second now so that one of the school teachers could lead the newest group of first years inside, but after a few moments of the nothing happening, Merida groaned.

"Ugh! What's taking them so long?! We didn't have to wait around forever back when we were first years!"

Astrid laughed. "Actually, Merida, I don't think that's entirely true. We had that long, traditional boat ride across the Black Lake when we first came to school, remember?"

Her question surprised the curly-haired redhead, and she immediately thought back to the night three years ago when she first arrived at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It had been almost like stepping out of one of her more realistic dreams, when the _Hogwarts Express_ pulled up to the Hogsmeade station and she and the other first year students had obediently followed the chaperone professor to the boats lined up that they rode up to the school. That had been a defining moment for Merida, riding in that boat. Not only was that the night that she saw Hogwarts Castle for the first time, but it was on that boat that she met her best friend.

Before either girl could comment any further, the doors to the Great Hall opened, and they immediately hushed while turning around in their seats to watch as the new first years slowly made their way inside the Great Hall in a single file line behind Professor North, the school's Deputy Headmaster. Expressions of excitement, nervousness, or awestruck wonder was on each one of their faces as they took in the magical dining hall for the very first time.

Their various reactions to the majesty of the Great Hall made Merida grin. Although she was pure-blood and her father had told her stories about his time in Hogwarts for as long as she could remember, hearing about what the Great Hall looked like and seeing it with her own two eyes were very different things. She had been just as amazed when she first entered the Great Hall three years ago as those new students were right now. After all, even in her own magical castle back in the Highlands, there wasn't an enchanted ceiling bewitched to always look the sky up above, and floating candles high overhead to provide magical light.

Students from the four Houses watched curiously from their respective tables as the first years made their way up to the High Table. This was situated on a long dais at the very end of the enormous room, where all the teachers were. A lone stool had been placed at the foot of the dais, and resting on top of it were two items: a large scroll of parchment, and a rather old, patched and frayed brown pointed wizard's hat.

The Hogwarts Sorting Hat. One of the only surviving relics from the four founders of the school.

When they at last came to the edge of the platform and the stool with the Sorting Hat, Professor North wordlessly signaled for the small eleven-year-olds to stay in line as he moved to stand beside the stool. There was a long, lengthy pause of complete silence as everyone in the Great Hall stared at the ancient wizard's hat in expectation. Then the hat twitched. A deep tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and then the hat broke out into a song. Merida beamed throughout the entire thing. She loved hearing the Sorting Hat sing.

When the musical number was over a few minutes later, there was thunderous applause as everyone in the Great Hall clapped and cheered. The hat seemed to puff itself up at the kind recognition, and it bowed its pointed tip to each one of the four House tables in thanks before becoming quite still again. The new first years all whispered amongst themselves as they absorbed the meaning of the song, about where each one of them would belong in their separated school House's over the course of the next seven years, but Merida disregarded this. She was still grinning. The ever-changing yearly song that the hat sang before the Start-of-Term Feast was always a highlight in her book.

Professor North raised his hands for silence, and the noise gradually died away. When all was quiet once again, he collected the scroll of parchment and addressed the new students hovering around him in a loud, clear voice.

"When I call your name, you will come forth, and I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head," he declared. "When the hat announces your House, you will then go and sit at the appropriated table."

Merida watched happily as the jolly white-bearded professor called out the first name and the designated student, Vanellope Von Schweetz, a small girl with glossy black hair tied back in a ponytail and decorated with a variety of colorful hair clips, shot out of line at top speed. She nearly knocked the stool over as she launched her body on top of it, and snatched the hat right out of North's hands before thrusting it down on her head.

The fiery-haired Scottish girl couldn't help but snicker at this. The girl reminded her of how she had acted during her own Sorting ceremony. She could never forget that day when she ran up to the stage, smacked the hat right on her head and folded her arms in anticipation. The hat had been impressed with her eagerness and announced her almost immediately as Gryffindor – not that being a true-bred, redheaded Dunbroch wasn't already a deciding factor.

For this fresh-faced hat-snatcher, however, the Hat suddenly shouted, "RAVENCLAW!"

The whole school applauded politely, but the long table with all the students with blue and bronze accents on their school robes cheered the loudest as small Vanellope whipped the hat off her head, and sped off as fast as lightning to her new House table. She was grinning from ear to ear as she sat down amongst the blue eagles, seemingly very pleased with where she ended up.

The two Gryffindor girls watched as the Sorting Ceremony continued, clapping kindly whenever a new student was sorted into either Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, booing with disdain if they landed in Slytherin, and then whooping for joy should they end up in their own house. But no other names or faces stood out to Merida amongst the new first years as the lineup grew smaller and smaller.

Or at least, not until one particular name on the list made Merida sit up straighter in surprise.

"Emma Overland Frost!"

The tomboyish princess leaned forward with interest. A small girl with straight brown hair and equally dark eyes was stumbling out of line. She was walking slowly up to the stool, trying to keep a monotone expression on her face, but it was evident by the way her fists were clenched up that she was evidently very nervous. Merida couldn't fault any of the new first years for that. While she had not been worried at all during her own Sorting, for some kids, it could be very nerve-wracking. Even though Gryffindor was home for the bravest in the school, she'd seen her fair share over the years of new Gryffindors approach the Hat with white faces, only to have color return to their cheeks after they sat down.

But still, Emma Overland Frost…? The hair and eye color were the same, but there was no way that such a cute little girl could possibly be related to—

"Yeah! Good luck, Emmy!"

Every head in the Great Hall immediately whipped away from the little dark-haired girl to the Slytherin table. The moment her eyes locked onto the boy who had shouted out, Merida's eyes narrowed. Looks like she had been right. Jackson Overland Frost was grinning from ear to ear. Oh, how she detested him. She quite hoped that he would make it onto the Slytherin Quidditch team again this year, if only to have the opportunity to slam him.

Still though, Jack paid no more attention to her than he did to anyone else who was gazing at him in annoyance right now for having technically interrupted the Sorting Ceremony. His eyes were solely on little Emma – his sister, Merida realized – and he was giving her a big thumb up for extra encouragement as he kept on smiling. Little Emma gawked at him in disbelief for several seconds as her cheeks brightened with embarrassment, but then she rolled her eyes at him before sitting down on the stool and letting Professor North place the hat on her head.

There was a long stretch of interrupted silence as everyone waited to hear where the Hat would sort young Emma. After the spectacle her brother made for her, even the teachers were looking on curiously, including the headmaster. All of them knew that Jack Frost was a pranking troublemaker that tended to slack off in his classes. But the question was, was Emma Overland Frost just like her free-spirited older brother? Would she become a Slytherin, too?

They waited…

And waited…

And they waited…

But the hat showed no sign of announcing where the little girl should go.

Pretty soon, three full minutes had gone by, and whispering began to break out across the room. Merida raised a brow as she stared at Jack's little sister. Tricky sortie, huh? Not surprising, to be honest. There was at least one hard to sort student every year. The record time for the hat to decide happened long before she was even born, and apparently that boy sat on the stool for nearly seven minutes before the Hat made a decision. That better not happen this time, though. She was hungry, and like she told Astrid before, she was anxious for Headmaster Manny to announce when Quidditch tryouts would be! So that Hat had better hurry up and make a decision so the ceremony could continue or else—

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The princess jolted a bit when she heard this, and it took her a few seconds for her to absorb what just happened before she realized that others at her table were clapping and cheering as little Emma pulled off the Sorting Hat and hopped down from the stool. Merida quickly joined in on the applause, making sure to smile kindly as the little girl weaved her way through the gathered crowd of remaining first years to reach the Gryffindor table. Emma might be the sister of the utterly annoying Jack Frost, but if she was a Gryffindor rather than a Slytherin like him, then there was hope for the kid. The last thing this school needed was another—

A sharp wolf whistle reached her ears, and she spun around in her seat. Jack Frost was making a fool of himself yet again. He was standing on top of his bench, clapping and whooping like a madman. The flabbergasted and enraged expressions of his Slytherin brethren were completely ignored.

Merida scoffed. What an idiot. She couldn't wait to see the look on his face when Gryffindor triumphed over Slytherin once again in Quidditch.

* * *

"Woohoo! Yeah!"

"Jack, sit down!"

"Great job, Emmy!

His princely best friend grabbed a fistful of material from his robe and yanked him down to his seat. "You're embarrassing me!"

He gave Hans' a critical look over. "You don't need my help for that."

The redhead rubbed his temples while muttering swears under his breath, before thumbing behind him. "Want to get murdered in your sleep?"

Ah, yes. The other Slytherins were glaring at him, spite in their eyes. A few were just gawking in complete disbelief, but he didn't care. It wasn't their sister who had just been sorted, after all.

Jack made sure to roll his eyes exaggeratedly for that, but nonetheless did as Hans said and glanced around. The Slytherins seated nearest to him were glaring venomously. Especially the fifth year Stabbington twins. They were such bullies.

Jack shrugged nonchalantly. "Jerks are always glaring at me like that, and those that aren't are just straight up ignoring me. Nothing new here."

"You never know," warned the prince. "Don't draw attention to yourself. You're just intentionally inviting trouble."

Jack made a point of rolling his eyes at that, smirking cockily. That way Hans wouldn't notice his hands had balled up into tight fists.

"Let them try," he countered. "If they give me trouble, I'll get back at them a hundred times over."

Despite what others may think of him, Jack wasn't an idiot. He was well aware his childish antics didn't win him any favorable points with his fellow Slytherins. But it wasn't like it mattered. Jack knew quite well that he would be hated by everyone other than Hans in Slytherin simply for being a Muggle-born. So why bother suppressing his true self? Mature or childish, smart or stupid – it wouldn't matter in the end.

He learned that the hard way during his own Sorting Ceremony three years ago. It was a shame that such an iconic moment of his life was tainted by his prejudiced housemates, because while he hadn't minded the Sorting experience itself at all, it was after the Hat placed him in Slytherin that made him scowl, despite being used to how they all treated him by now.

When Professor North had called out his name from the list, he hadn't hesitated for a second. He had walked quickly but carefully to the stage, robes smoothed of wrinkles and hair smoothed from spikes. He had wanted to make a good impression then, and he must have, for the teachers had been watching very carefully throughout the ceremony. Even headmaster Manny Lunar was appraising him as he lowered himself onto the stool. North had set the hat on his head, and a few seconds later, the hat was whispering in his ear.

' _Jackson Overland Frost… Hmm… Curious… Very curious…'_

What the Sorting Hat said befuddled the hyperactive boy. Not only because he didn't understand what the hat meant, but because the hat was talking at all. ' _I can hear the hat's thoughts during this whole thing?'_ he had thought to himself. ' _Weird…'_

' _Do not refer to me in third person. We talk to each other during this process through thoughts.'_

Jack was astounded. ' _You can talk to me in my mind?! And you're a hat?! Wicked!'_

Judging by the way the voice he was hearing seemed to be holding back a distinct cough, the boy was pretty sure he made the hat hold back a small laugh. ' _Not raised in a magical community, I assume?'_

Jack grinned. ' _Nope. Muggle-born.'_

' _Muggle-born?'_ repeated the Sorting Hat. To this day, Jack wasn't a hundred percent positive, but he was fairly certain that the hat sounded rather odd when it said this. ' _I see…'_

' _Something wrong?'_

' _Nothing that concerns your sorting. Let's get back to that, shall we? You're a curious one indeed, young Jackson. You—'_

' _Don't call me Jackson. It's Jack.'_

' _My apologies. Still though… you're very curious, Jack. You don't remember your father, I see, but you love your mother and little sister more than anything, and would gladly give your life to protect them from harm. That chivalry would make for an excellent Gryffindor indeed.'_

Jack's hopes had soared when he heard this. He might have been relatively new to the Wizarding world when he first arrived at Hogwarts a few years ago, but the little he had found out about Hogwarts on his own had led him to believe that Gryffindor was by far the best House out of the four. ' _You're throwing me there, then? Sweet! Thanks a million!'_

' _Just a moment. I never said that you were entirely Gryffindor. You are very brave, but you also have a mischievous side to you as well. You can be quite resourceful when you wish to be, and rather cunning when it comes to causing trouble.'_ The hat seemed to hum to itself. _'Slytherin can help you on your way to greatness.'_

If he had known then of Slytherin's obsession with pure-bloods, or the fact that it churned out more Dark Art practitioners than the other houses, he would have never been so careless.

But he had been an idiotic, ignorant Muggle-born first year. So he had shrugged and said, _'Slytherin sounds cool.'_

When he had joined the students with snake insignias on their black robes with emerald green hoods, they had greeted him with claps on the back and cheers. He thought that everything might be all right, until—

"Frost isn't a pure-blood name. You half-blood, then? From the mother's side?"

He had laughed. "Oh, no. Mom's not magical. I'm probably Muggle-born."

And bam! Just like that, he had painted a bright red target on his back.

Those around him had immediately edged back from him, as if he had just declared himself carrying the bubonic plague. His inquiries for clarification had been ignored until he had found it painted on his forehead the first morning after the welcome dinner. It had been a horrifying sight that he had only discovered in the boys' bathroom after waking, and shortly before he had been doused with a bucket of brown, stinking sludge.

 _MUDBLOOD._

More of such things had occurred following that morning – missing belongings, broken stationary, nasty notes and so forth. Slytherin cunning meant that his bullies had covered their tracks well, and loyalty amongst pure-bloods meant that onlookers had kept their lips sealed when teachers demanded answers. However, as the Sorting Hat had observed, Jack was no short of cunning himself and through a series of eavesdropping, note-forging and lies, he had discovered the culprits. And, _boy,_ there had been a number. A Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw would have inform the teachers. But Jack was neither of those.

Perhaps that dastardly Hat did have a point.

Unexpectedly one night, half the Slytherin boys' dorm had found their beds infested with spiders.

No one had been able to prove that it had been him behind the prank, but people knew he did it. When the jerks had tried to get even with him again, they woke up the next morning to find all their school robes mysteriously dyed a vibrant shade of pink, dangling from the hanging lamps in the common room. How Jack had managed to pull _that_ off since he had been only a first year student baffled everyone in Slytherin house. He hadn't been taught Color Changing Charms yet. Since there was no way to prove that Jack had been behind the incident, he wasn't punished.

Truth be told, the prank had been all too easy to pull off for the aspiring trickster. While he hadn't known any spells yet that could help him with the stunt, it was his Muggle upbringing that taught him cloth dying – a once arduous component of his laundry chores that helped him get back at the bullies.

From then on, everyone knew better than to mess with Jackson Overland Frost. He got occasional shoves in the shoulder with 'Mudblood' muttered in his ear, but for the most part, the majority of Slytherins just straight up ignored him. It wasn't an ideal circumstance, but it was the best that Jack could hope for. He had to give it to Hans. Defying the odds to befriend a 'mudblood' didn't do him any favors to his already non-existent popularity and he knew that there were occasions that his friend had suffered by association.

Which was why Emma being a Gryffindor was a good thing in the long run. Even though he loved to tease her, Jack loved his little sister more than anything in the world. If she had been placed in Slytherin like him… that would have been very, _very_ bad. She was overall a sweet little girl, but she also had a temper to her. She wouldn't have been able to to resist picking a fight with the older Slytherin kids should they taunt her about being 'a filthy Mudblood.' She wouldn't win, of course, and all the harassment would break her fierce spirit for sure.

Gryffindor would be good for her. It probably would have been good for him too, had he only the brains to have begged the Sorting Hat to put him there instead.

"What's up? You actually look serious for once." Hans' voice interrupted his thoughts. "It's unnatural."

The dark-haired boy blinked, returning to the present. "Just remembering my Sorting, that's all. Emma will probably be a lot happier in Gryffindor rather than Slytherin."

The prince raised a bemused brow. "You sure you want to say that now, while sitting at the table where everyone can hear you?" he pointed out.

Jack shrugged. "All I'm saying is that in least in Gryffindor, she won't be bullied so bad. It's hard being the only Muggle-born Slytherin of our year, you know."

Hans stared at him for a moment, but then he shook his head. "That's where you're wrong."

"Huh?"

"You're not the only Slytherin Mudblood in our year, Jack. Have you forgotten?"

Realization flashed in Jack's brown eyes, and then he promptly turned his head to glance down at the far end of the table. That was where a certain reclusive princess sat at every meal for the past three years, after all.

* * *

"Princess Anna of Arendelle!"

Elsa's eyes snapped up. She forced herself to focus on keeping her breathing steady as her cheerful younger sister squeezed her way through the line, an eager smile on her face. So relaxed and carefree.

The platinum-blonde girl was feeling the complete opposite. Being in the Great Hall for any set length of time was always a source of great anxiety for her. Even after four years here, she was still not comfortable being around so many people. But she had spent the past six years mastering the art of deception. So other than the small creases in her gloves as she clutched her slightly shaky hands together, no one had any idea that the Muggle-born crown princess of Arendelle was mentally praying that nothing would go wrong with her ice magic.

Anna wasn't like that. She loved the attention and the masses that watched her as she darted up towards Professor North and the Sorting Hat. She happened to glance back over her shoulder to gaze over at the Slytherin table. Elsa's breath hitched in her throat as Anna's eyes locked on to hers. Her sister waved happily to her before plopping herself down on the stool with an excited smile on her face and her fingers crossed for extra luck. Moments later, the old wizard's hat was set down on her head, and all was silent in the Great Hall.

Anxiety was knocking on the door, so Elsa turned her eyes away from the scene for the moment.

"Don't feel," she breathed, not daring to speak any louder that way no one could overhear her. "Don't feel."

She hadn't been able to hide her growing powers from the Sorting Hat all those years ago. _'Hmm… Yes, very secretive,'_ it had mused in her mind. _'And you are willing to do anything to make sure that whatever it is you are hiding stays a secret… A Slytherin quality…'_

Elsa's eyes had gone wide in shock. ' _No! Not Slytherin! Please! Anything but Slytherin!'_ she had screamed in her head. She had read all about Slytherin house on the train. It had been the one house that she absolutely did _not_ want to end up in! She couldn't let herself end up in the house that would automatically dictate that she was destined to be a monster and hurt everyone one day. ' _Ravenclaw! Sort me into Ravenclaw! Please, I beg you!'_

' _Ravenclaw?'_ The Sorting Hat had sounded rather intrigued at her plea. ' _I do not deny that you are very bright, Princess Elsa. You are most likely one of the smartest new students that I've seen so far this year. But there are more important things that make a good witch. Sorting you into Ravenclaw would not help you to grow at all. You are far more suited for Slytherin.'_

' _But… But—'_

"SLYTHERIN!"

She had come to the school hoping that it would help her with her powers, to help her _not_ become a monster. But on the very first day, the label had been stuck on her and her miserable fate. She couldn't help feeling a little betrayed.

But the hat was just doing its job, and if it could sense that she belonged in the snake house – the house where all the monstrous and evil Dark witches and wizards thrived in – then it had to be true.

Admitting that fact, however, did not mean that she had any intention of revealing it to any other. No, let her stay the aloof Muggle-born princess. Let her stay hidden behind her gloves and impenetrable, emotionless farce. Let her continue the deception that the Sorting Hat had detected, for it wasn't as if it was going to tell anyone else.

Elsa gulped as she waited for the Sorting Hat's decision over her sister. It had denied her the one request she had made of it back when she was eleven-years-old. It may not be on her head right now, but let it grant her this one wish now, three years later. Anna may want to be in her house, but she was far safer from her in another house. Any of the other three school houses would do – any of them.

"Not Slytherin…" the girl whispered, clenching her hands up into two tight balls. "Not Slytherin... Please, not Slytherin…"

There was a brief pause, and then finally, the Hat shouted out its decision for the little princess of Arendelle.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

As the cheers erupted from the Gryffindor table, Elsa's relief flooded over her entire being. Thank the heavens.

As Professor North lifted the hat off her sister's head, she noted the sad, disappointed expression on Anna's face. The younger girl gazed back at her for a moment before walking sadly towards the Gryffindor table. Part of her felt guilty for feeling so happy that Anna's hopes to just spend time with her had been dashed yet again – even if this instance hadn't been her fault – but that didn't matter. She was safe. That was all that mattered. Anna was in Gryffindor. She would be accepted there and not be ridiculed for being a Muggle-born. Pretty soon, she would forget all about her reclusive older sister and would be able to find comfort from the various new friends she would surely make. Everything would turn out just fine.

* * *

As the young Muggle-born princess sadly weaved her way through the crowd of first-years toward the Gryffindor table, a certain boy sitting amongst the Hufflepuffs took note of her gloomy state. He sighed.

Hiccup had no idea why Princess Anna seemed so depressed about being sorted into Gryffindor. Was she unaware of what Gryffindor represented? Gryffindor was by far the best out of all the four school houses! It wasn't just the house where all the other teens from Berk aside from himself and Fishlegs had been sorted into, it was the house that his dad, the great Stoick the Vast, had been in back when he was a Hogwarts student. He couldn't help but feel somewhat annoyed with the red-headed eleven-year-old's attitude. She had no idea how lucky she was to be labeled as a brave and courageous lion. It was a thousand times better than being forever branded as a kind, but loser badger.

When he had been a young first year waiting to try on the hat, he remembered telling himself that he would somehow convince the hat that he belonged in Gryffindor. He might not have been the strongest kid from Berk or had the confidence in himself to tell off Snotlout whenever he tormented him, but if the hat sorted him with the rest of the bold and courageous lions, he could change!

At that time, Snotlout had already been sorted and had been sending him mocking jeers from the red and gold table as he patiently waited his turn, and that had bothered his younger self. His cruel and idiotic cousin, who he had predicted would end up in Slytherin, was of _Gryffindor_ quality. His father would have all the more reason to listen to his Uncle Spitelout's pleadings to make his cousin the future chief to the village. Then Astrid had been called up, and then – to no one's surprise – she had ended up in Gryffindor, too. That only had strengthened his resolve. He might be a useless failure, but somehow, he had been confident that he would be able to persuade the Sorting Hat that he needed to be a Gryffindor. Just for once, he wanted to prove to everyone that he was no different from them, despite his odd qualities.

But the Gods hated him, so the Sorting went something like this instead:

' _Um… Hey, Mr. Sorting Hat, sir. So… well, my dad was in—'_

' _Gryffindor. I know. I put him there,'_ the hat had said rather matter-of-factly in his brain.

He had felt a great sense of relief, thinking that he might have been able to win after all. _'Well, most Vikings go to—'_

' _Gryffindor too. I know. I put them there.'_

' _Yeah. Exactly. So I was thinking—'_

' _But you aren't like most Vikings, are you?'_

' _Uh… Well, no. I suppose not. But—'_

' _So I can't sort you like most Vikings, can I?'_

' _Well, you see—'_

' _You need to grow. You need to be challenged.'_

Hope surged in his chest. This was all going swimmingly. _'Yes!'_ He had smiled. _'Yes! I want to be challenged. So the perfect house for me, logically, would be—'_

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

' _Wait, what?'_ His mouth had fallen open in alarm. _'I'm not done yet!'_

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

' _You can't do this!'_

"Next please," the hat had told Professor North. "This one has nits."

Okay, so his memory might be a little off, but Hiccup could have sworn that that was how it more or less went down.

It hadn't been surprising when he had descended from the stool then reeking shame. The Thornston twins had practiced their face-pulling, Fishlegs had looked a little sympathetic, Snotlout had been pointing and cackling, and Astrid…

…Astrid hadn't even reacted, and that somehow stung more than all the taunting put together.

Going home to his father for Snoggletog that year had been very, very awkward.

"Jamie Bennett!"

A scrawny boy scrambled up to the stool, beaming sunshine and rainbows. Hiccup didn't bother watching, deciding to amuse himself with tracing imaginary circles on the house table.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

His circle-drawing process was interrupted when the student next to him jerked his arm. Of course, that student was one of the housemates who actually bothered to cheer and hoot as a welcome to the poor soul who was now condemned to the lousiest house in all the of the Wizarding world. What made it worse was that the kid was still grinning happily as he clasped the hand of one of the house seniors and babbled his joy. He actually wanted to be here? Hiccup couldn't understand that in the slightest.

"What a twerp."

This came from across the table. Hiccup lifted his head to gaze at a blocky blonde boy sitting around him. He didn't personally know the guy, but he might have seen him around the table and common room before. He was pretty sure that he was a third year student. He had a name with a Nordic tone to it. What was it again? "Christopher, right?"

The blonde shot him an irritable scowl. "It's Kristoff," he corrected sourly. "Kristoff Bjorgman." With a roll of his eyes, he pulled out something orange from his robe – a carrot? – before tearing a bite off it. Munching solemnly, he silently offered the bitten end to Hiccup.

Despite the stereotype of Vikings being barbarians, Hiccup in fact was a well-bred boy that didn't eat strange foods offered by strange people. And especially not if that person had already eaten some of it. "Er, no thanks."

"Your loss." Kristoff shrugged, leaning carelessly against the table as he watched the next first year approach the front of the dining hall. "I don't think they're going to end anytime soon."

On cue, Hiccup's stomach growled. He sighed. He hadn't managed to get anymore chocolates from the Trolley Witch back on the train, so that left him with zero food options till the sorting was done.

He gazed across the hall, to the table that consisted of the courageous and the bold, their red collars and their lion crests stitched over their chests. A pang of longing struck him in the chest suddenly, as he imagined a fictional universe where he was bigger, stronger, muscular, and just about everything else his father would have preferred for a son. In that world, he would be sitting there amongst the Gryffindors, cheering proudly for every new first year that joined them, and with a future consisting of Quidditch Trophy after Quidditch Trophy.

But no, in this miserable life, he was nothing more than the Walking Fishbone. The Loser Hufflepuff. The Almost Squib.

With one last sigh, he rested his chin on his arms, and gazed sadly up at the enchanted night sky ceiling.

* * *

Ravenclaws were known to always be very perceptive and to always pay attention to everything going around them, and that was true even now. The students that sat at the blue and bronze eagle table were watching the Sorting Ceremony with rapt attention, carefully memorizing the names of new students to their faces for future reference in case they should be sorted to their house. Every Ravenclaw was doing this.

Well, every Ravenclaw except one, that is.

"Pascal, I can't just spring the subject first thing on mother the moment I speak with her again. I have to start a casual conversation first."

A small green reptile was on top of the table surface, and stared back pointedly at its only human friend with narrowed eyes.

"Oh, come now! I'm not trying to put off telling her, I swear. It's just… it's not going to be an easy discussion. You know that."

A small, irritated squeak escaped the chameleon's mouth.

"Don't give me that. It's easy for you to say that. You're not the one who's going to be labeled as an ungrateful daughter by their mother for wanting to drop her class."

Pascal rolled his eyes at her, and Rapunzel couldn't help but sigh. She loved her secret pet more than anything, but sometimes she wished her pal wouldn't silently sass her. Pascal had no idea what it was like to be in her shoes – or lack, thereof. She rarely chose to wear shoes outside of school and preferred to go around barefoot in her tower home. But the point was, Pascal was small but mighty, and willing to stand up to Gothel if he could so as to help his only friend in the world.

Sadly though, Rapunzel did not possess have the courage that her small companion had, even though it was something she dearly wished she did have.

Sighing a bit to herself, Rapunzel tore her gaze away from Pascal. Ignoring the next student that had been called forth to be sorted, her eyes shifted past the last handful of first years still waiting in front of the stool and she instead looked at the teachers sitting at the High Table. Her eyes searched about frantically for a moment, but then she finally spied her mother sitting near the far right end. Like her daughter, Gothel was not paying any attention to the Sorting Ceremony. Her deep gray eyes were locked solely on her daughter, and her ruby lips turned upwards when she noticed that Rapunzel was now looking at her.

Rapunzel couldn't help but smile pleasantly back in return, and she even went so far as to try and discreetly wave to her as well. Despite how sharp Gothel's tongue could be and how she had all but forced her to take her incredibly boring Muggle Studies class last year when class electives could finally be made, Rapunzel loved her mother. She might be a Squib, but the love a daughter could have for their mother was something that could not ever be measured.

It was at that moment that a quiet laugh cut through the air. "Mummy's girl," someone muttered, and then muffled snickers broke out across the entire table.

Rapunzel's head whipped around. Everyone was trying to hide their mocking laughter of her behind their hands or with cleverly concealed coughs, but Rapunzel knew the truth. They were all laughing at her.

Her cheeks brightened with humiliation, but Pascal turned a vivid shade of furious crimson upon seeing all of the other Ravenclaws laughing at his only friend. He started to hiss heatedly at the other kids who were teasing his owner, but Rapunzel simply plucked the tiny creature off the table – surprising him enough to change back to his normal green color at once – and placed him on her shoulder.

"It's okay, Pascal. I'm fine," she assured the chameleon.

But they both knew that was a lie. Rapunzel had always been mocked by her peers for being the daughter of the schools' only squib teacher. And because she was so kind hearted and docile, she couldn't bring herself to say 'Enough!' and walk away. And being so self-conscious and awkward, she couldn't flick a bored hand at the miscreants and tell them to go… well, do something to themselves.

What made it even harder for her was that she was a Ravenclaw. Granted, Rapunzel had nothing against being a Ravenclaw. She was proud to be a member of the Hogwarts House that considered people who had above average intelligence and extremely creative in high regard. But intelligence could breed arrogance, and Ravenclaws were no saints. Those within their house that didn't display the adequate intellect on a daily basis were dismissed by those who oozed buckets of it. And them being them and her being… well, herself, it was obvious that there was a gap along the smart-o-meter. She wasn't stupid – not really – and her grades weren't terrible, but it was like comparing crystals to diamonds. It didn't help that she always stuck to Gothel like glue and preferred chatting with her bizarre chameleon pet rather than her housemates. People thought of her as socially-deficient, intellectual sub-par and an all-round scaredy-cat. Perhaps they weren't wrong.

Knowing that her mockers might be right didn't make her feel better in any way, but she had chosen to spend her seven years at Hogwarts this way. The Sorting Hat gave her a choice when she slipped it on back when she was eleven. She had chosen Ravenclaw, and she had to live with the consequences.

Her mother, Gothel, used to comment that magic had evidently skipped a generation in her family, since she herself had no such abilities. She used to say – and still did – that Rapunzel was incredibly fortunate to be able to attend such a fancy school. It, of course, being very expensive, and Mother never failed to point that out. Working as a teacher for Muggle Studies just barely paid the cut and it was dreadfully, dreadfully hard work, so the least her daughter could do was _cooperate and stay away from those hooligan classmates of hers!_

Back as a first year, Rapunzel had not dwelled on such things, like fees or the consequence of having a parent on staff, especially one as hard-handed as her mother. She had waited in line restless like a bouncing ball of pure energy, eager for her turn with the Sorting Hat. She hadn't thought of friends, or the future, or Mother's grumbles – and my, what a list of them there were. She had just been eager to learn all she could about magic and mysteries, and all those exciting things that sounded like fantastical fairytales. This was where her life truly began!

' _Charming. Very charming,'_ the Sorting Hat had whispered in her ear at her turn. _'You are quite a charming young girl.'_

' _Thank you. That's very kind of you to say,'_ she had thought back to it kindly.

' _You have a very compassionate soul, and you possess unyielding loyalty to those who you love,'_ the hat declared. _'Those are Hufflepuff traits. But at the same time… you also have a creative streak to you, and there is also a thirst for knowledge. Such qualities would make for a fine Ravenclaw.'_

' _Oh, my!'_

The Sorting Hat almost seemed to laugh at that, and that made Rapunzel actually giggle. _'I suppose that ultimately, the choice is yours then.'_

Rapunzel blinked. _'The choice is mine? I don't understand…'_

' _Where would you like to go? You would do well in either House, my dear, but your opinion as to where you would like to be placed is just as important in determining which House you are suited for as my opinion is.'_

The long-haired blonde was quiet for some time as she considered the Hat's words, but then she finally smiled. _'It doesn't matter to me, really.'_

To this day, Rapunzel lived by the belief that she was one of the few people in this world that had actually managed to stun the Hogwarts Sorting Hat with her answer. _'Come again?'_

' _I honestly do not care which House you sort me into, Sir Sorting Hat,'_ she replied. _'Both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw sound lovely. If I had to make a choice as to which House I want to be in… I'd say place me in a House where I won't have to be afraid to be myself. I like to paint! I like to read! I like to play chess, play the guitar, play darts, sew, knit, bake, cook, make pottery, candlestick making, dance ballet, self-taught ventriloquy… and charting stars! I especially love charting stars! Put me into a house where people will appreciate all my hobbies and may even share one or two of my hobbies with me!'_

The hat had hummed thoughtfully at this. _'You appear to be a girl of many interests, young Rapunzel. If that is what you wish.'_

' _It is.'_

"RAVENCLAW!"

Rapunzel sighed as she thought back on all this. She had made the choice to let the Sorting Hat place her wherever it thought best suited her without trying to convince it otherwise, but perhaps she should have told it put her in Hufflepuff instead. Hufflepuff's were always so kind. They wouldn't have looked down on her for loving her mother even though she was a squib, and she was sure that they wouldn't have considered her to be a killjoy coward for spending so much time with Gothel. Hufflepuff was… _safe._

Would she have been happier in Hufflepuff? It wouldn't have challenged her as much as Ravenclaw, but would she have made more friends? Would the teasing cease?

It was a curious question, but she had no time to muse over it, because she was forcibly brought back to reality when thunderous applause erupted from the Gryffindor table. The last first year had finally been sorted, and the Sorting Ceremony was finally over.

Rapunzel forced a cheerful smile on her face as she joined in with the rest of her House in politely clapping for the last boy as he sat amongst the students with the lion insignias on their chests. The last of the applause eventually died away and Professor North carried the stool, the scroll of first years' names, and the Sorting Hat away. Headmaster Manny Lunar slowly rose to his feet, sending a sudden hush over the crowd. Every student in the school gave the headmaster their full attention and utmost respect.

"Welcome!" he said rather jollily. "Welcome students, old and new, to a new year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Applause broke out and he allowed it to ring for a short time, before halting it by raising his hand.

"The staff and I are delighted to have you once again amongst us, where we will be able to engage in another year of learning, that you may grow to become fine wizards and witches in the future."

He glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the staff members seated at the High Table as he spoke, seeking their agreement. Pascal chirped approvingly as the teachers began applauding his words, and Rapunzel couldn't help but smile when she saw Gothel slowly join in on clapping with everyone. Her mother could be rather overprotective at times and even a bit rude occasionally when it came to playfully teasing her, but she was still a good teacher. If it weren't for the fact that Rapunzel wished to learn Medi-Wizardry but was unwilling to drop Care of Magical Creatures – she might not be particularly good at the class, but if she didn't pass it, how else would she learn how to be able to secretly take care of Pascal? – she would continue taking her mother's class. Having grown up learning how to do things for herself the Muggle way in her tower home because of Gothel's lack of magic, it was fascinating to learn about the ordinary things from the perspective of wizards.

At that moment, Pascal suddenly scurried his way off the table surface, and up the sleeve of her black robe so as to sit upon her shoulder.

The blonde lightly giggled as she stroked his head with her finger. "Pascal, if you wanted to get a better view, all you had to do is ask," she said sweetly.

The tiny chameleon technically rolled its gigantic eyes at her, but it did so with an amused smirk on its scaly face, so the girl knew her little pal was only being a bit mischievous with her. With one last giggle to herself, she turned away from Pascal and piped down to continue listening.

* * *

"Before we begin our year with feasting, as we traditionally do, I have a few announcements that I must make. To those of you young first years—" he glanced down to the first years, who were mostly seated near the front of each bench "—I must warn you that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off limits to all students. Indeed, some of our older students would do well in remembering that, too."

Hiccup rolled his eyes and tried not to seem completely disinterested as Manny's eyes twinkled directly at a certain dark-haired boy at the Slytherin table, who only smirked and chuckled in amusement at the obviously frustrated redheaded prince sitting right next him. Gossip could have taught him how exactly that Slytherin boy had earned the chiding glance from the headmaster, but Hiccup didn't care. He just wanted these quick notices to be done and over with so that he could eat already. Once he had himself stuffed with dinner, he'd head straight off to the common room. The sooner he got to bed, the sooner he could fall asleep and dream about a life where he could have been a Gryffindor.

"The wizarding village of Hogsmeade is also out of bounds to anyone below third year and does not have a permission slip signed by either a parent or guardian," Manny went on, earning sighs from the floor. "Oh! And I'd also like to take this time to welcome back to the school our former instructor of our Dragon Fighting Class, Professor Gobber the Belch from the Barbaric Archipelago. The class shall be available again for all those who are interested in learning how to fight dragons. Good luck, Professor Gobber."

The scrawny Viking heir immediately perked up at this. He began clapping enthusiastically as he saw how his mentor rose to his feet from his chair at the High Table, and both ends of his long, braided blonde mustache swung a bit in his face as he soaked in the cheers from all the students while he waved enthusiastically to the crowd with his right hand. He couldn't do so with the other one, because in place of a hand was an enormous wooden goblet, as his left hand and even his right leg had been eaten by some Monstrous Nightmare some ways back. Hiccup knew firsthand that his prosthetic hand could be substituted out if need be with interchangeable other prosthetics, such as custom-made tools to use in the forge or even specially made weapons for fighting dragons.

Hiccup couldn't help but chuckle a bit as he heard the obnoxious shouts from the Thornston twins and the burly whooping his cousin was making down at the Gryffindor table. They seemed excited. Fishlegs was clapping so fast and so hard, Hiccup could tell that his face was puffing red, and even Astrid had deemed Gobber's introduction to the school a good enough reason to crack a smile. She was cheering just as hard as any of them were with a fist pumped into the air, and her friend Merida was laughing herself as she watched the Viking girl howl out her praises. Seeing Astrid beam so happily like that made Hiccup smile wistfully. It would be nice if, you know, she might smile that way at him. Just once. Yeah.

But what Headmaster Manny Lunar said next made Hiccup's immediately snap back to him.

"In other news… It is my deepest regret to inform all of you that this year, the Inter-House Quidditch Cup has been cancelled."

* * *

" _WHAT?!"_

The raging shriek Merida made as she leapt to her feet was all but drowned out by the roar of angry voices as just about every die-hard Quidditch player in the school began screaming their protests. Like Merida, they were not only stunned to hear this, they were fuming with red hot fury. Quidditch had to be one of the all-time best things about Hogwarts for those who played the enchanted sport. To hear that it was being canceled like this was an outrage!

"Argh! Son of a half troll, rat eating, munge bucket!" Astrid screamed, her entire face turning as red as her best friends' fiery hair. "What in hel is going on?!"

"That's what I want to know!" Merida snapped in agreement, her blue eyes as cold as ice as she glared venomously at the old, tiny professor. "We live for Quidditch! You have no right to take away our school sport!"

"Bring back Quidditch!"

It was imbecile Snotlout who bellowed this, but his booming shout had the idiot's desired effect. Within seconds, every student second year and older was chanting his three words at the top of their lungs, _"Bring back Quidditch! Bring back Quidditch! Bring back—"_

An earsplitting bang reminiscent to that of a gunshot reverberated throughout the room, and the Great Hall was instantly silenced.

* * *

Elsa nearly screamed as she slammed her gloved hands over her ears. While Quidditch didn't mean all that much to her and she had absolutely no reason to become overly emotional right now unlike everyone else in the school, the cannon blast of noise that Manny had made with his wand to shut everyone up had startled her terribly. She could spy miniscule swirls of frost coating the surface of the table where her hands had been resting only a few seconds ago.

With a nervous gulp to herself, she quickly slid her empty golden plate right over the frost patterns to make sure no one saw them.

"Don't feel… Don't feel!" she whispered to herself harshly.

As soon as she was positive that she was back in control, she turned her attention back to the High Table. The aged professor held his wand upwards towards the ceiling as his eyes slowly scanned the crowd of shocked-into-silence students, restlessly searching for any sign of further protesting to the surprise announcement of Quidditch being cancelled. When he was at last satisfied, he lowered his wand and – to everyone's surprise – smiled wholeheartedly out at the rest of the crowd.

"Now, as I was saying," Manny continued rather brightly, "the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year. This is due to the fact that this year, we at _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_ have the great honor and privilege of playing host to two fellow magical schools – America's _Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_ and Japan's _Mahoutokoro School of Magic –_ in a legendary event! The Tag-Team Tournament!"

* * *

"Tag-Team Tournament? _The_ Tag-Team Tournament?!"

Jack nearly jumped out of his seat when Hans' voice shouted this almost right into his ear. He was completely lost. Most of the Slytherin house seemed to share in his best friend's shock and utter joy, but many from the other tables seemed confused like himself. He didn't understand. Tag-Team Tournament? What was that? A massive game of Tag? Why did Hans look so excited about a massive game of Tag? Wasn't he just spouting curses about Manny cancelling Quidditch?

"Hans?" he questioned, thoroughly puzzled. "What's going on?"

But Hans didn't answer him. The youngest, thirteenth prince of the Southern Isles had seemingly forgotten all about Jack as he joined in those understanding few who were now talking all at once, exclaiming their joy or pressing for more details about the strange competition.

Manny eventually raised his hands for silence, and all the commotion died down. "I assure you all that this is not a joke. Hogwarts will indeed be playing host to the Tag-Team Tournament this year." An awed murmuring threatened to rise, but he hushed it again. "To those of you who do not know what the Tag-Team Tournament is, allow me to explain. The Tag-Team Tournament was initially formed many centuries ago as not only a friendly competition between sets of three magical schools at a time, but also as a singular competition known first as the Triwizard Tournament. In those days, single champions were selected to represent each of the schools, and the three champions would then compete in a series of three enchanted tasks. The schools would alternate in hosting the tournament every few years, as it was almost unanimously agreed upon that the tournament was a wonderful way of establishing friendships and bonds between the young witches and wizards of different countries worldwide… or at least it was, until the death toll became so high that the tournament rules had to be rewritten."

Jack's brows shot upward, and his head snapped around to stare incredulously at Hans. _"Death toll?"_ he muttered, full of alarm.

"Shh!" Hans half-whispered, half-snapped, not daring to tear his eyes away from Manny as he spoke. "Shut up and listen."

The dark-haired boy shot his friend a glare, but did as Hans said and focused back on Headmaster Manny.

"One of the main changes decided upon was the number of representatives per school. Early days' Triwizard Tournaments promoted a very individualistic culture, which only enforced attitudes of arrogance and selfishness amongst its champions. This attitude was believed to have been responsible for the reckless and violent behavior of some competitors and was in part responsible for the high death toll. Hence, it was decided that each school in the tournament would send a group of five students instead, promoting teamwork and brotherhood instead."

"Question – what if the five in that team try to kill each other?" muttered the brunette Slytherin to his friend. "Would that still promote brotherhood, eh?"

"Jack." The redheaded prince sounded vaguely like he was being strangled. "If you don't shut up now, I swear I'll make you and it will hurt."

The Muggle-born boy pouted, but did as he was told.

"The tasks have also been… moderated, with safety measures to ensure that students are unharmed throughout most of the contest. Mind you—" Professor Manny nodded towards those in the hall who were looking disappointed "—the tasks will still be incredibly challenging, intent on testing the character, wits, and strengths of each individual witch or wizard. Also, the number of tasks have increased to five. Five competitors for each school, hence five tasks."

"Yes, yes," he heard Hans hissing under his breath. "Get onto the sign-ups, old man." He was flexing and clenching his fist over and over, making Jack wonder what exactly his buddy was so anxious about.

"And finally, after much discussion across the schools, it had been decided that for safety reasons, only students seventeen-years-old and above may participate—"

The headmaster had not finished his explanation before the dining hall exploded with horrified cries. Jack watched the scene with utter bewilderment as students shot to their feet in indignance, fists pounding on the table. Then he noticed all the blood drain from Hans' face, leaving him pale. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," was the prince's short answer, which really meant _'one of those things that I'm too moody to talk about.'_

Jack rolled his eyes while the headmaster struggled to call for attention. If Hans wanted to sulk, let him sulk.

Finally, the noise quietened down and Manny began to speak once again, "Next week there will be a feast to welcome the participating schools. I expect all students here to be nothing but cordial and gracious hosts." For some reason, his gaze flitted to the Slytherin table, focusing down on Jack, who stared back at him in confusion. "May the best witches and wizards win. But for now—" he clapped his hands together "—we shall have a feast for ourselves."

And just like that, the tables were awash with dishes, each holding a steaming dish of something. Plates and utensils appeared before each student, making the new first years gasps in astonishment and the older students smile and shake their heads at their wonder. The aromatic smells prompted all to start filling their plates with the spread, be it the roasted chicken, the beef stew, or the suckling pig. Being a growing boy with a growing appetite, Jack was quick to pile several helpings of food onto his plate, just barely remembering at the last moment to snatch up his fork before attacking it.

As he swallowed down his third bite, however, he noticed that the redheaded prince sitting next to him had not moved. His golden plate remained empty as he stared blankly forward.

"Hey? Your royal highness?" Jack waved a hand in front of his face, but the emerald eyes didn't respond. The country boy sighed. Between the two of them, Hans was the more emotional one, and occasionally, he would have these strange moods where he would go absolutely silent, furrowing his brows while staring intently at the wallpaper.

Like he had decided to do right now.

With another sigh, Jack pointedly nudged his friend in the shoulder. "Alright, what's the matter?"

"I don't expect you to understand," grumbled Hans, still staring intently in space.

"Well, _explain_ to me so that I can understand."

The prince let out a disgruntled huff, sulking about the lack of sympathy. He eventually spoke, albeit grudgingly. "That age limit ruined everything."

"Oh?"

"This was my chance. None of my brothers have ever been in something of this scale." Reluctantly, Hans loaded a few scoops of stew onto his plate, but didn't move to eat it. "It could have been my distinguishing quality, you know? Something that made me—" he poked at the food with his fork, but still didn't eat it "—special."

Ah, that made sense. It had to be pretty tough to stand out when you had a bunch of elder brothers who all had red hair and green eyes, and occasionally liked to pretend that you didn't exist. Jack scrunched up his face in distaste. Pure-bloods. All that inbreeding was bound to have some side effects. "It's just a school tournament. There'll still be Quidditch next year."

"Almost all my brothers were in Quidditch, and champions too!" Hans slammed his fork against the plate, making some of the students around them jump. The redhead prince didn't notice however, choosing to bury his face in his hands. He almost sounded like he was screaming into his palms.

Jack cocked a brow at him. What was so great about this tournament? And was it really worth agonizing over? "You're a wuss."

"And you're incredibly unhelpful," came the muffled reply.

"Look, this Tag-Team… thing – fine, you don't get in it. But hey, there's other places where you can distinguish yourself," Jack tried to comfort him. "Like… electives. Or class. Heck, you can even start preparing for O.W.L.'s if you like—"

"You're right." Hans suddenly straightened up. The whining and pouting had vanished abruptly, replaced by cold determination. He seized the serving spoon for the potatoes and began heaping them on his plate. "There's so much to be done, and it would be prudent not to waste any more time." Head turning swiftly to his friend – "How do you feel like a midnight study-session?"

Jack's jaw dropped in disbelief. "But… it's the first night at school!"

"So? It's never too early to start." He shoved the potatoes and stews in his mouth, chewing and swallowing at speeds beyond anything Jack had ever seen, yet somehow, he appeared perfectly polished while doing so. He then noticed that the other boy was still gawking at him. "Come along, Jack. We don't have all night."

The Muggle-born boy let out an exasperated groan as he continued his meal. As much as he was grateful to have a best friend in a house that reeked hostility, Hans was very trying. Especially right now. Studying on the first night back at school? Seriously?

He made a mental note to try _not_ to make any new friends this year. Either that, or learn how to cast an Unforgivable on himself.


	3. The Typical First Day

**Elphaba818's Author Note:**

 **I know, I know... waiting around for two months for the next update must be torture for you readers, but hey. What can I say? I'm busy with classes, Shar's busy with classes. College is a pain, and it eats up our writing time. We can't guarantee how frequent or far apart updates might be, because our college assignments keep us so busy. Remember readers, writing this story for both of us is a hobby that we enjoy, but we have lives outside of writing, so even though we might want to just write nonstop all day, everyday, it's unfortunately an impossible dream. T_T**

 **Anyway, I'm sure most of you were hoping to find out more about the mysterious Tag-Team Tournament in this chapter, but you'll all have to be patient for the next chapter. This chapter is more of a typical first day back at Hogwarts for our heroes, so you all get to see what their lives at school have been like for the past couple years. We'll meet more of the supporting cast for the tournament in chapter four. Just be patient for a little longer please! :D  
**

 **Like with Chapter Two, I'd like to take this time to thank everyone who was nice enough to leave a review! It's shout out time for those nice fans!**

 **\- Cloud4012**

 **\- IReviewThings**

 **\- Anon007**

 **\- snowfire12345**

 **\- SmilingStarcat**

 **Thank you all so much for your kind messages! In addition to Shar's encouragement, your reviews are what motivate me to keep writing! Please leave more reviews for this chapter too, okay?**

 **Everyone, please read, review, and enjoy the chapter! SharKohen and I put a lot of effort into it! ;D**

* * *

 **SharKohen's Author Note:**

 **Greetings.**

 **Just want to shoutout to SmilingStarcat! Totally cool to see you around and yes, I do read the reviews to this story. What you say about the personalisation of POV is very true, and we will strive to try to make each unique to the character, as far as it is possible and it fits the story.**

 **That's all for me. To the rest of you, dear readers, hope you enjoy the show!  
**

* * *

 **Chapter Three: The Typical First Day**

There was a rapt knock on her bedroom door.

"Rapunzel, are you ready yet?"

"Almost, Mother."

"Well, hurry up, Flower. Breakfast will start soon."

"Yes, I know. I'll be right out."

Rapunzel gazed wistfully at her reflection in the mirror as she securely adjusted the knot for her blue and bronze Ravenclaw tie so that it wasn't quite so tight. Lingering in front of the reflective glass, she smoothed out a few spare annoying wrinkles on her gray cardigan and black pleated skirt before finally nodding in satisfaction. She crossed her room – being mindful not to accidentally step down on her absurdly long hair – and made her way to the small closet in the corner, removing her school robes from its hanger and snatching the pair of detestable Mary-Janes from the shoe rack. Her artistic mind couldn't fathom how a school as fine as Hogwarts slapped their students in dreary monotone shades during class hours, and her body couldn't fathom why closed-toe Mary-Janes were the assigned footwear. In fact, if she had any say about it, shoes would be removed entirely from the uniform. They were nasty, ugly things that pinched her feet and numbed toes. Having gone barefoot most of her life back in the tower, she could never quite understand other people's fascination with them.

Plopping herself down on her bright blue Ravenclaw bedspread right next to her small, green scaly pal, she took a deep breath. She then yanked the first shoe on her gray stockinged foot, gritting her teeth as she did, before shoving on the second. Gazing down at the elegant little prisons, she couldn't help but exclaim, "How do people wear these on a daily basis?"

 _Squeak, squeak, squ-eak._

"Oh, sure." She rolled her eyes. "I'd like to see you try wearing something so uncomfortable. I could sew you a pair, you know. Or two."

 _Chitter, chitter chitter chitter._

"I know, I know. I'll get used to wearing them again soon." She tried to curl her toes, then straighten them out. She forced herself up to her feet, crossing her room determinedly once, then twice. It hurt, but she suppressed the moans of agony. "I always do."

The start of a new school year at Hogwarts was always hard on her poor feet. By the end of today, she would most likely be sporting a fresh array of blisters on both her heels and toes. But no matter. Treating them would be as simple as pie with her unique abilities.

When she was at last satisfied with the test run, she focused her attention back on Pascal. "Well, this is it. This is a very big day, Pascal. The first day of my fourth year!"

The little green chameleon smiled, chirping in excitement.

"You're right. This year is bound to be extra special, what with the whole tournament thing going on. I wonder why Mother never mentioned it over break? She might be a squib, but she's still a teacher. Why didn't she say anything? I know I'm not old enough to enter, but it still would have been nice to find out before everyone else…"

Pascal merely shrugged. He had no answer to that.

"Well, no matter. Forget about the Tag-Team thing for now. Because I'm finally going to do it! I'm going to ask her about the Medi-Wizardry Elective!"

Her small companion started to squeak out some encouraging chirps, but that was when Gothel's voice cut through the air from beyond the door.

"Rapunzel? I'm not getting any younger out here!"

"Coming, Mother!" the blonde called back. Pausing only to collect her messenger bag with all her supplies off her desk chair, she crossed the room to allow Pascal to hop onto her hand. "Come on, into the bag. We can't let her see you."

With a one last grin, Pascal crawled along the length of his human companions' thin arm until he had hidden himself away into the depths of her bag. Rapunzel was glad to have her dearest and only friend with her, for the conversation to come was undoubtedly one of the most difficult she might ever have with her overprotective mother.

Mother was hovering in front of the oval-shaped mirror over the end table near the door, checking to see if her timeless face looked as beautiful as always before she and Rapunzel left their private quarters for the day. It was highly unusual for a student to live anywhere else in the castle other than their designated house dormitory, but as a member of the Hogwarts faculty, Mother had pulled several strings to have Rapunzel room in her chambers rather than in Ravenclaw Tower. It was to keep her safe.

Back when she was eleven, Rapunzel had initially roomed in the Ravenclaw girls' dorm. By the second week, she couldn't bear to stay there any longer. Apparently, her hair as long as hers made her the topic of discussion everywhere she went. Talking to chameleons and walking around barefoot was also not considered normal behavior. Most had thought it a shame that the Sorting Hat placed such a dimwit in Ravenclaw, and some even called her 'borderline mental' when they didn't know she was listening. No one really said anything to her face, because they figured she'd just 'run-off-to-mama-and-tattle-tales', but when they did say things, they meant it.

The final straw was eventually when a pair of redhead Slytherin twins thought it funny to try to give her a haircut. She had fled, unscathed by crying and Mother had intervened, raging like a blazing inferno as she did. The sight of the Stabbington brothers cowering before her 'squib' mother would have been a hilarious sight, if not for what happened after.

Gothel had marched her way up to Headmaster Manny Lunar's office and had made it clear that she was pulling her daughter out of Ravenclaw Tower and moving her to her quarters. No 'ifs', no 'buts'. When she had packed her belongings up from the dorm, she had tried not to notice how relieved her housemates appeared, and certainly tried not to consider that they might have somehow masterminded the whole incident with the twins. Ravenclaws were known for their intelligence, after all.

Despite the humiliation of having to move in with her mother, Rapunzel was somewhat grateful for her mother's rescuing. Since the notorious tongue-lashing she had given the Stabbingtons, no one had dared lay a finger on her precious flower. Of course, that might have been in part due to the fact that her mother had made sure that she stuck close to her for every moment possible outside of class. After all, only Mother could, and would, protect her.

But even Mother couldn't protect her forever.

"Ah, there you are, my flower." Her mother beamed at her as she turned from the reflective glass.

"Sorry for taking so long, Mother. I was trying to get used to wearing shoes again." Her eyes dropped down to her feet and the devices that had them in their clutches.

"I see. Are you used to them now, then?"

"Not yet." She hobbled uncertainly towards her mother. "It'll probably be a few days at least."

"Let's hope so, Flower. We wouldn't want to be late for every class now, do we?" Mother's tone was chiding, almost harsh.

Though Rapunzel knew technically that she meant it in jest, the smile on her face faded to a sad frown. If she could see Pascal right now, she didn't doubt he would be rolling his gigantic eyes in annoyance. He never liked Mother's teasing, but he was a chameleon. He just didn't understand Mother's sense of humor.

Well, to be honest, Rapunzel herself didn't either.

Gothel soon noticed the disheartened expression on Rapunzel's face. "Oh, darling, you know me. I'm just teasing," she assured her, turning her attention back to the mirror.

"Alright…" Forcing a small laugh from her throat, Rapunzel stepped forward to stand beside her mother. "So! Mother, as you know, today is a very big—"

"Rapunzel, look in that mirror," Gothel suddenly said, even stepping over a bit that way Rapunzel could see their reflections better. Rapunzel blinked as her mother gently pulled her up towards the glass, not at all sure as to what she was doing. "You know what I see? I see a strong, confident, beautiful young lady."

The blonde girls' heart swelled like never before, and her joy only increased as she watched as her own reflections' lips slowly turned upwards into a happy smile.

"Oh, look! You're here too!"

Her mother started cackling away to her own little joke.

Instantly, the light in Rapunzel's eyes died away. Another tease. Oh, haha.

Her mother nudged her with her elbow to get her attention. "I'm just teasing. Stop taking everything so seriously," she assured her before carefully examining her reflection in the mirror once again, only to grimace when she discovered several graying hairs near her brow and spied a few liver spots on the back of her wrist through the reflection.

With a small sigh, Rapunzel forced herself to ignore the comment and get back to the matter at hand. "Okay… So, Mother, as I was saying, today – well, this morning really – is a very big day because—"

"Rapunzel," Gothel cut in again, her voice as sweet as honey, "Mother's not looking her best this morning. She could use a small pick-me-up before classes start. Would you sing for me, dear? Then we'll talk."

The request was not unusual, but the little statement at the end of it was. Eagerness mixed with hope made her burst out, "Oh! Of course, Mother! You'll help braid my hair up afterwards, right?"

"Yes, yes, my flower. Of course. Just fetch the brush and chairs."

Anxious to get on with discussing the topic of her desire, Rapunzel did as she was told. Setting down her bookbag, she grabbed her mother's favorite armchair in front of the fireplace and set it back down again near the exact center of the small room. She did the same thing with a small footstool, and then snatched up the first hairbrush with a hairband twisted around its handle for safekeeping that she saw.

By the time her mother had made it to the center of their small living space, Rapunzel had already assembled everything required. Pushing Gothel into the chair and thrusting the brush in her surprised hand, the girl plopped herself down on the footstool. All but shoving the golden locks into her mother's hands, she opened her mouth and began to sing as fast as she could.

" _Flowergleamandglow_

 _Letyourpowershine—"_

Instantly, the golden locks that ran rivulets from her head, down to the ground and in between her mother's fingers lit up abruptly like a bulb, bathing both mother and daughter in its golden glow.

"— _Maketheclockreverse_

 _Bringbackwhatoncewasmine—"_

"Wait, wait!" her mother cried, taken aback. But Rapunzel ignored her and continued her fast singing.

"— _Healwhathasbeenhurt_

 _ChangetheFates'design—"_

Frantic not to lose the magic before the magic completely disappeared from Rapunzel's hair, Gothel whipped the brush through the bundle of gold on her lap at speeds that shouldn't be possible.

"— _Savewhathasbeenlost_

 _Bringbackwhatoncewasmine."_

And _POOF!_ A powerful wave of magic swept over her mother, instantly transforming her gray streaks back to their original shade of luscious, ebony black. Creases and wrinkles vanished completely too, restoring her back to her youthful visage. But Mother wasn't pleased. "Really, Rapunzel!"

"So, Mother," Rapunzel said eagerly, brushing off the coming reprimand as she scooted forward, just inches from squashing her face against her mother's. "Earlier I was saying today's a pretty big day, and you didn't really respond, so I'm just gonna tell you! It's class elective selections day!"

Gothel blinked. "No, no, no," she said, gently removing her daughter's hands that were excitedly grasping her upper arm. "Can't be. I distinctly remember. You chose your class electives last year."

"That's the funny thing about course electives day." The girl let out an awkward chuckle. "They're kind of an annual thing."

"Well, so what if it is? You're doing fine in Care of Magical Creatures, so there's no reason for you to drop it. And other than that one Slytherin princess, you're my top student in Muggle Studies. You'll be continuing it, obviously."

This was it. The moment she had been mentally preparing herself for. If she didn't tell her mother about wanting to switch class electives now, she'd never be able to.

With hope swelling up inside her like a balloon, Rapunzel took a deep breath for confidence and went on. "Mother, Muggle Studies is interesting, but what I wanted to ask is… Well, your class… it's informative and all, but—"

"Rapunzel, please. Stop with the mumbling," the ebony-haired woman interrupted, choosing this particular moment to examine her nails. "You know how I feel about it."

Rapunzel's face fell. It seemed that it had a habit of doing that.

"I'm just teasing. You're adorable." Gothel laughed, affectionately pinching Rapunzel's cheek as she pulled one of the hair ties off the handle of the brush. "I love you so much, Darling."

As she started braiding up the blonde locks near her daughter's, a small green head poked its way out of the messenger bag, shooting a pointed look at the girl. Rapunzel hesitated. She knew she had put it off long enough, and once her mother was done with the braiding, she would never dare bring it up again. It was now or never.

"I want to take Medi-Wizardry this year!" There! She said it.

The fingers running through her hair immediately stilled.

"What?"

Rapunzel shifted about nervously on her small footstool. "Well… I was hoping you wouldn't mind me dropping – um, swapping Muggle Studies for Medi-Wizardry this year."

"You wish to drop my class? Just so you can take Medi-Wizardry?" Mother sounded aghast by the very notion. "Your hair already possesses great healing magic. That's far more than any silly class could teach you."

"But that's just it!" Rapunzel pressed on excitedly. "We both know that my hair has to stay a secret, Mother, but because of that, the rest of the Wizarding World doesn't know I can already heal the sick and injured." She let out a heavy exhale, hoping against hope that sincerity would earn her mother's understanding. "I've been thinking a lot about this lately, and I can't help but feel like… like Medi-Wizardry would be very beneficial for me! If I became a certified Medi-Witch after graduation, I could help save lives, and not just with my hair! Who knows, maybe I could even research the history of healing magic in class, then we might finally know why I have this enchanted hair and—"

"You wish to leave me? After you graduate?" Gothel interjected, sounding a little hurt.

This perspective threw her off the course of her argument. "What? No! That's not what I—"

"Well, well, I've always known this day was coming." Mother's clever fingers finally resumed their intricate braid work, but the tugs against her scalp felt a little harder than before. "Why, it's inevitable that adolescent rebellion would produce such results, but you would think it comes only from children of poorer up-bringing."

"Mother, I'm just saying that it wouldn't hurt to start looking ahead by—"

" _Especially,"_ she continued on without heeding Rapunzel at all. "When those children know very well that this seclusion is all for their own safety. Now, now, you know that I'm not really talking about you, Rapunzel. You're such a good girl, aren't you? But such children, such _rebellion_ – it's very ungrateful, don't you think?"

"I never meant—"

"I know, I know. Being in this school has put such flighty thoughts in your head." Gothel sighed, continuing to weave knots with the yellow threads. "And I tried _so_ hard to keep you away from such influences. I know that you want to be like other girls – what with their independence, poor spending habits, and dangerous activities – but you are not like them. You have a special gift, and that gift needs to be carefully protected. Do you understand that?"

Rapunzel sighted. She did understand.

"Now, all these notions of joining 'Medi-Wizardry'—" her mother's derisive tone made it clear how much she thought of the subject "—you had best throw them out. You don't have enough time with me as it is, and entering such a curriculum – don't you think of the dangers, Rapunzel? What if you slip up in a class? Expose your powers to your peers? To the world? Have you ever considered the consequences?"

The blonde girl went silent, for she had indeed considered such a scenario. But in her mind's eye, letting the world know about her power would be a wonderful thing. Maybe people would think her interesting rather than odd.

But Mother certainly held no such views. "This is the only way to keep you safe – from the cruel, evil, selfish people out there who would use your powers for themselves. You understand that, don't you, Rapunzel?"

She sighed, then nodded.

"Oh, my fragile flower," Mother cooed at her with an air of melancholy as she finished off the last strands, tying the end with a ribbon. "I know this might be difficult to accept, but you know I've always known what's best for you, haven't I?"

"Yes, Mother."

"So for your own sake, and my own heart," she let go of the hair, bending herself forward so that she could look at her daughter, eyes narrowed and stormy, "never ask to leave my side again. Is that clear?"

Rapunzel's face fell at the stern request, and she couldn't bring herself to reply right away. In her heart, she didn't want to. Unlike her mother, she didn't see her future back in their tower, forever and ever. She wanted to learn, to see, to taste the worlds and all its colors and fragrances. But yet, Mother was right. The world was a dangerous place, especially for young girls with magical healing hair.

Her heart sank as she digested the bitter truth. The hopes that she had attached to the Medi-Wizardry course were shoved back into her mental chest of unfulfilled and unpursued dreams, as it often was.

"Yes, Mother," she softly mumbled.

Her words were sorrowful, but they nonetheless pleased Gothel.

"You know that I love you very much, dear."

"I love you more."

"I love you most."

It was a strain to return her mother's bright beam, for inwardly she felt as if a downpour had just been emptied over her.

Now that the long braid was done, Rapunzel slung her school bag back on again. Gothel draped on her black cloak over her shoulders, manner almost gracious. Of course, she could afford to be – she was the one who won, after all.

"Go on ahead to the Great Hall for breakfast. I need to collect some notes from the staff office before classes start," her mother told her, patting Rapunzel's head the way she had since she was a child, before making her way down the long corridor. "Ta-ta! I'll see you in a bit, my flower!"

Rapunzel stood there in the middle of the hallway as she watched her leave. "I'll be there…" she said quietly, her gloomy words barely louder than a whisper.

Pascal popped his head out from the depths of her book bag, and squeaked sadly to exclaim his disappointment for how things had turned out.

The girl tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage it. "It's okay, Pascal. I… I know I was hopeful she'd say yes, but it's not like I wasn't expecting this. I mean, she is right about most of it." She twisted the fabric of her skirt, unwilling to express the fullness of her disappointment.

Unwilling to let his friend stay in her gloom, Pascal crawled up the length of her bag's strap, climbed up to her shoulder, and nuzzled his small head against her cheek affectionately.

Even in her dour-mood, Rapunzel giggled as she stroked his green body with her finger. "Thanks, Pascal," she told the chameleon gratefully. "We don't want to miss out on the best of the breakfast spread."

Pascal chirped his agreement.

Rapunzel set off down the hall in the opposite direction that Gothel went in, her long blonde braid swinging about behind her with every step. So, her prospects of becoming a Medi-Witch were utterly dashed, but it wasn't the end of the world.

She could find a way to be happy living out the rest of her life.

Living with only her mother for a companion.

In a lonely tower deep within a forest.

She _could_ do it. But that didn't mean that she wanted to do it.

* * *

Divination was said by some to be a subtle art that few could master, and by others to be complete baloney and an insult to the sensible witch or wizard. Whatever the case, to Merida, Divination was becoming a choice that she increasingly regretted.

Only twenty minutes into the class and she had become exceedingly aware that Professor Toothiana, or just Professor Tooth to the more casual student, or just 'Crazy Rainbow Chicken Lady' to the more disrespectful student, had very fixated ideas of what constituted teaching, and that idea consisted mainly of _staring_ very hard at things.

"Scrying is not a task that can be easily achieved by all," the colorful professor announced grandly – and yes, she was very colorful, from her bright green, yellow, and purple robes to her loud headdress adorned with multicolored feathers of a similar shade. "Anyone can peer into a crystal ball or into a smoky incense, but not anyone can actually perceive what is revealed in them."

"Really?" Merida muttered sardonically as she stared morosely into the crystal sphere sitting in front of her. All that she saw was her reflection staring back at her, berating her for choosing possibly the worse elective that ever existed in the history of electives.

Astrid was faring just a bit better, having taken Professor Tooth lecturing as permission to doodle in her textbook. Her quill had managed to scratch out several crudely-shaped images that Merida realized were battle axes. Clearly, the blonde Gryffindor's mind was not on fortune telling any more than hers was.

"Textbooks will only get you so far, so don't bother studying those too hard," Professor Tooth was chirping on in her maddening, bird-like voice. "If you don't have _The Sight—"_ the word was uttered with an almost frenzied reverence "—then there's very little I can honestly teach you and you should probably leave this class."

The Scottish princess glanced hopefully around the incensed-drenched classroom, hoping that some students would push themselves to their feet and march right out. She would only be too happy to follow that person away from this haze-ridden chamber and the rambling professor that accompanied it. Unfortunately, no one did, because everyone was far too respectful of the professor, or perhaps the half that wasn't had already dozed off and hadn't heard her daring declaration. Merida sighed as she rested her chin on her knuckles. If she was the only one to leave, her mother would hear of it. There was no way she willing to risk it, especially if the Ministry of Magic had any hand in this Tournament that was coming up.

She pondered briefly over the Tag-Team Tournament. Whoever came up with this name clearly wasn't trying too hard, and while the whole mysterious element lent a measure of intrigue, it was off-putting that they capped the age limit on it, so – _ugh._ And the annual Inter-house Quidditch Tournament had been cancelled too, so double _ugh._ Thank you, Ministry of Magic, for sucking the fun out of everything.

No wonder her mother did this for a living.

"Which do you think looks better?" Astrid plopped her textbook of doodles in front of her. "This—" she used her quill to point at one squiggly axe, then to another even more squiggly one "—or this?"

Merida pressed her lips together, then chose the more squiggly one.

Her friend nodded in approval. "I think so too."

"You girls would do far better to be paying attention in class rather than whispering amongst yourselves," rang Professor Tooth's voice from across the room, making the two Gryffindors jump up. "You might actually learn how to see _some measure_ of your future, even at your amateur level."

"Hmm, like I need Divination to learn that," the redhead muttered under her breath when the tutor turned away to continue her rambling.

Her blonde friend eye her curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I don't need a crystal ball to know that my future is going to outright miserable. Look—" Merida drew up the small scroll that she had tucked away in her robes "—my mother sent this letter this morning to remind me about my impending nuptials." She said _'nuptials'_ the way one would say _'massacre.'_

"It's just a betrothal."

"It might as well be slavery." Her face was dark as she unraveled the scroll. "See these? They're the names of my potential future husbands." Disgust was written on every inch of her face and she made no pretense about it.

Astrid craned her neck forward curiously, eyeing the list with interest. "Anyone I know?"

"Well, there is this one – Alan MacGuffin?" Noting the lack of recognition in her friend's eyes, Merida added, "Hunky guy, big meaty arms. He was on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team last year, but got thrown out because he kept crushing the Quaffle with his bare hands."

"Ah, that one," Astrid nodded, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "You have to admit that kind of strength is pretty impressive. If he were a Viking, that'd earn him a lot of points."

"Except that his accent is impossible to understand," grumbled the redhead, making a scornful sound. "He's one of those Scotts that have no concept of enunciation. I might as well try to talk to Angus – at least he can make himself understood." Professor Tooth's head turned towards them, so she stopped talking. Everyone else in the classroom had taken up the tea cups on their table and begun sipping them, so the two girls did the same.

Astrid made a face as she sampled the hot beverage, before asking, "What's the next option?"

"Ryan Macintosh."

The other girl choked on the tea, coughing violently. "Wait, _that_ Ryan Macintosh?" She thumbed the tall, lean student sitting across the classroom. He had taken up the arduous task of adjusting his luscious locks against his reflection on the crystal ball.

Merida's tone was nothing short of dismal. "One and the same."

"But he's such a narcissist!" As if to prove her point, the boy in question tossed his silky raven curls back, letting them fall gracefully over his shoulders. Some of the female crowd around him watched in complete awe and admiration, sighing with longing.

Observing their behavior, Merida shuddered. "How can they act like that? There's no way I'm getting together with a guy who brushes his hair more than I do."

"But, you have to admit—" Astrid pretended to ponder "—his hair is so much prettier than yours."

"Yes, I suppose it is," the other girl conceded wryly. "I guess if I do end up marrying him, I'm gonna shave him bald on the wedding night."

"He'd probably kill himself if you did that."

Merida shrugged. "That works out for me."

"Who's the next one?" Astrid's head dipped down to the letter once again.

"Wee Dingwall."

The blonde girl rolled her eyes. "I meant what's the actual name of your last candidate, and not what you call him behind his back."

"It's really Wee Dingwall. Look." Merida pointed at the line on the piece of parchment. "Even my mother wrote it that way."

Astrid was incredulous. "There's no way that's his real name."

"Everyone calls him that – his father included."

"That's mean."

"No, it's accurate. Look." She used her wand to point to the boy with spiky blonde hair across the room. Though the tie hanging from his neck revealed him to be a Ravenclaw, he was by no means the epitome of his house's values. His mouth was hanging open in a permanent gawk and his eyes were glazed over in a manner that was both disturbing and revolting. "It suits him."

Her friend peered hard at the specimen in question, before saying, "Are there anymore on the list?"

"Nope."

The blonde Viking girl gave her a surprised look, then a pitiful one.

"Oh, shut up," grumbled Merida.

"I didn't say anything."

"Just drink your crummy tea. I don't need your sympathy."

The two girls eventually did finish their tea, and luckily they did, for the rest of the class had done so long ago and now were trying to compare the images of their tea leaves to that in their textbooks.

"Come, come, make haste!" Professor Tooth urged them, almost shoving the textbook into the face of one of the students. "Fate is not a lengthy visitor and it's not going to wait for your by-leave before it disappears." She paused. "Also, there will be a graded assignment on this exercise."

That immediately spurred everyone to dig more desperately into their dusty copies.

Astrid made show of following orders by flipping through her own book, away from the evidence of her axe-shaped vandalisms. But the redheaded girl sitting next to her did no such thing, for her attention had been captured by the odd shape that her tea leaves had landed in.

Laying it on the table, Merida spun the cup cautiously around, scrutinizing it carefully. She then tapped her friend's shoulder in excitement. "Astrid! Angus is in my cup!"

"Your horse is in your what now?" The girl with the braid was bewildered by the odd statement.

"Look!" She pulled her friend over by the sleeve, forcing her head down towards the cup. The leaves indeed had taken quite an accurate shape of a horse, and with themselves being scalded black, the horse did appear quite like a silhouette of the princess' trusty steed. "You know what this means?"

"…No."

"It means freedom! I'll be with Angus, riding free in the wind!" She hopped up to her feet in her excitement, fists pumped into the air. "I won't be bound by some stupid marriage – I'll be FREE! My fate in my own hands! My fate determined by _me!"_

Just as she completed her spiel, she realized that everyone in the hazy classroom was staring at her, including Professor Tooth.

Slowly lowering herself back into her seat, but having lost none of her enthusiasm, she hissed to her friend, "Don't you see, Astrid? The tea leaves have spoken! My mother's attempts to betroth me off isn't going to work."

The Viking girl appeared doubtful. "I don't know. You know interpretation in Divination is a really iffy thing, and considering this is our first lesson, well…"

Merida groaned, displeased about being disagreed with. "Well, what else could a horse be?"

"Maybe your future husband is going to have a long face—" the girl pondered further for a moment, rubbing her chin as she though "—and four legs."

The redhead deadpanned at her.

"We have to consider the possibilities!"

* * *

Hogwarts, being the finest magical school in all of Scotland (in fact, the only magical school in Scotland), prided itself on its extensive and holistic curriculum – but still not holistic enough to include lessons in the Dark Arts, because unlike Durmstrang, they were slightly less shameless about the number of Dark Art Practitioners they churned out. But otherwise, the numerous electives offered by Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were indeed diverse, and 'diverse' sadly included 'dangerous.' Students like Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Son of Stoick the Vast, Wimpy Heir of Berk, Almost-Squib-by-Not-Quite, and Most Unenthused Hufflepuff of the Year, was starting to wonder if there was some school policy that indicated that only so-and-so number of students were permitted to graduate each year and the rest had to be discreetly eliminated through under-table 'natural selection.'

If there was anything _natural_ about sticking a bunch of children with no weapons in a chain-sealed arena with a giant, fire-breathing reptile.

"You didn't have to come with me, you know," the Wimpy Heir of Berk grumbled to his hook-handed tutor. Indeed, the march from the dragon training arena to the infirmary had earned enough stares, what with himself covered in soot and burns. Having Gobber in tow did not make anything better, especially when his old blacksmithing mentor fussed over him with a mixture of acerbic humor and blithe concern.

"Hah! And trust you to go on your own?" One of the Viking's bushy yellow brows shot up. "Laddie, I've known you since you were just a tiny—" cocking his head to the side "—well, tinier whelp of a thing. But one thing I know for sure is you—" jabbing him in the bruised shoulder, making him wince "—have an incredible lack of self-preservation, and I don't mean that in the honorable, bull-headed Viking fashion. So you bet by Odin's sacred toenails I'll be seeing you get taken care of."

"Perfect," Hiccup murmured dryly as he was shoved through the door of the infirmary, only to be greeted to the reek of boiling herbs, the stench of fermenting paste and the odor of something that smelled suspiciously rotten.

"Oi, Gothi!" was Gobber's crude greeting call. "You in? Got a case for you."

The answer came in the form of a sharp _thwack!_ and the big burly Viking need to nurse a bruise on his head. The silent, small head-healer of Hogwarts emerged from whatever hidey-hole she had been cooped up in earlier, looking very much irate as she straightened her staff back up. Whether it was with Gobber's unseemly mannerisms or their presence in her hallowed territory, Hiccup wasn't sure.

Like them, Gothi was Berkian-bred-and-born. She had once worked as the healer of their island, but at some point she grew weary of Berk's ever-frozen forecast and decided to settle in the dreary wetness of the Scottish countryside. It was said that she had grown to actually despise working at Hogwarts, especially with all the annoying pubescent teenagers, but continued her job nonetheless because she was a Viking, and Vikings were largely stubborn, irrational beings. That meant, however, that she took a special joy in giving the nastiest sort of medications to those who offended her, and it was well-known throughout the school that to mess with the tiny healer was only what the foolhardy attempted.

Her wrinkled countenance shifted from the hook-handed fellow trying not to cry to the boy covered in soot and burns. Her wispy white brows shot up, questioning.

Hiccup sighed, admitting feebly, "Yep."

She appraised him disapprovingly, before waving him into the wards. The brightly lit infirmary, with its neat columns of beds and freshly pressed bedsheets, made it clear that they had not been used yet, because most normal people did not get themselves injured on the first day of school, even if it was during Dragon Fighting class. Obviously, these normal people who usually went for these classes were also not walking twigs lacking stamina, reflexes, and even basic common sense to realize that when a boulder-class dragon was going to fire at you, the obvious solution was to run, not whip out one's wand and shout _aguamenti._ This was especially important when you mispronounced _aguamenti_ as _aquamenti_ and thus rendered the spell useless. This was also especially stupid when done in front of the most beautiful girl in the world, whose name rhymed with 'Hastrid,' because if she thought you were incompetent before, now she thought you are the Black Plague personified and should be removed from society for the sake of all wizard-kind.

Gothi gestured for him to sit on one of the beds before she began an examination on him. In her usual silent, efficient manner, she poked him along his bruises, pulled back at his seared skin while he bit back his hisses, then stepped away from him and vanished briefly to the storerooms. When she returned, she was hobbling along with a tray of ugly-looking salves. She also brought along with her a small blackboard, and across it she drew a series of symbols that Hiccup couldn't decipher.

Fortunately, Gobber could – or at least, he thought he could. "Let's see, hmm." He gazed down at the board as Gothi continued her inscription. "You should defy the notions—" she whacked him with her staff. "—Ack! Pardon, apply the lotions at free times—" _whack!_ "—gah! Sorry, at least three times a day. When you flower—" _whack! "—YEESH!_ Sorry, shower – when you shower, be sure to let the water run over ferns – _burns, burns,_ I got it!" the hook-handed man hastily corrected himself just as the healer had her staff raised in the air. "Let the water run over the burns a bit longer than normal. It will ping – _sting,_ I mean, but it will cool down the cremation."

Hiccup looked alarmed. Gothi wore a long-suffering expression.

"Ah, I mean, inflammation," the dragon training tutor amended eventually as he reexamined the markings on the blackboard. "It will cool down the inflammation."

"Well, thank you," was Hiccup's polite response when the skinny old woman pressed the number of vials into his unwilling palm. He undid the lid of one and blanched when the scent of the salve reached his nostrils. Well, it appeared that he was going to smell distinctly of fish for the next week or so. Lovely. Just lovely.

Eventually, he was dismissed, several disgusting-looking salves richer and himself still looking as if he had been fried to a crisp. He was glad that Dragon Fighting class had been the last on his schedule in class today, because after this afternoon's humiliation, he didn't really want to face anyone. In fact, if having meals in the Great Hall wasn't mandatory and he didn't sleep in a dormitory, he would have rather hoped to avoid the entire school population in possible.

"What happened to you?"

When he had tapped out the special rhythmic password in the tune of 'Helga Hufflepuff' on the barrels outside the Hufflepuff common room and stepped inside the basement hangout, he had hoped to find it empty, but nope. There had to be that strange third year boy – Kristoff, wasn't it? – sitting in the common room, seated at one of the various honey-colored wood study tables and chewing away on one of his carrot sticks. On his left, a tattered old volume sat wide open, and on his right was something that looked like a hand-drawn map.

"Dragon Class." Hiccup pursed his lips, before adding, "And Professor Gobber's unorthodox teaching methods."

"Ah." The blonde boy nodded sagely, before resuming his sketching activities on the map.

Curious, and not wishing to dwell and longer on the topic of his rather upsetting day, Hiccup asked him, "What's that?"

"Oh, nothing. Just a little hobby that I have," was the noncommittal reply as Kristoff not-so-subtly shifted his book over the map, covering its contents. "So, call me ill-informed, but what do you actually do in Dragon Fighting Class?"

Hiccup was going to say 'learn to fight dragons,' but then he thought back to how everyone was just running crazily while the Gronckle chased them around the arena in merry circles, plus the numerous burns that he earned today. "Actually, I'm not completely sure."

"Hmm." Kristoff's snort was most certainly derisive. "Well, I'm not looking forward to fourth year electives then, especially not ones created by barbaric nut jobs." The insult was emphasized by the sharp scratching of his quill against the parchment.

While privately he supposed that Vikings were both in part barbaric and nut jobs, Hiccup did feel an obligation somewhat to defend the designers of the dragon curriculum. After all, they were his people. "Dragons are a threat, you know. They can wipe out whole villages." He thought back to Berk, the dreary island of his birth, that seemed perpetually plagued by fire-breathing reptiles.

"No threat is as great as that of which comes from mankind," was the ominous declaration from the blonde student, who then paused his sketching to massage his temple, muttering softly under his breath as he did.

Hiccup had to admit that, while he considered himself pretty weird for his age, Kristoff Bjorgman took it to a whole new level.

After he had retrieved a fresh set of clothes, Hiccup took a shower in the dormitory bathroom, and as per Gothi's instructions, he let the water run down the burns quite a bit. It stung a lot, but hey, pain, love it, right?

When he had emerged from the bathroom, salves slapped all over his body, he made to pass through the common room. At that moment, he found that the blonde third year student was no longer there, much to his pleasure. Kristoff's belongings, however, were left on the table, forgotten. Deciding that he might as well be a courteous fellow housemate, since he _was_ going to smell fishy for a while, Hiccup gathered up the items and headed back up to the boy's dorm.

Upon arriving at the bed that he knew belonged to the Bjorgman boy, he had fully intended to leave the book, quill, and ink pot there and walk straight off. But then a folded sheet fell from its spot between the pages of the ancient volume onto the floor, immediately catching his eye. This so-happened to be the parchment that Kristoff had been in the process of illustrating earlier, and Hiccup couldn't resist the temptation to find out what it had been of.

Dropping the stationary off at Kristoff's bedside, Hiccup bent down to retrieve the parchment, wincing a bit as he stretched his seared skin. When he had unfolded the sheet, the boy confirmed that indeed it was a map as he had suspected. But a map of what, the parchment did not say. The outlines were very rough, just enough to indicate plots of land covered with lots of trees and steep inclines. Areas with demarcated labels such as 'centaurs,' 'spiders,' 'strange-looking flowers – belladonna?,' 'don't step on the Bowtruckles,' 'unicorn-sighted'…

 _Wait._ Hiccup scanned over all the labels and realized that all of them indicated some kind of magical beast. Moreover, there was a little arrow at the corner of the map that said quite plainly _'To Hogwarts.'_

Only one location sprang to mind – the Forbidden Forest.

But how could Bjorgman know what the Forbidden Forest was like unless he had been there? But wait, what was he doing in there, when he knew that it was clearly forbidden? It was even in the name!

Of course, the third year student in question was known for being strange, and he was clearly not going to allow silly rules to bar him from exploring the forest if he wanted to. And to think, that he had managed to accumulate so much information about the place – he must have gone there dozens of times! Without dying!

And on the other end of the spectrum, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III was barely scraping through being in an arena with one dragon. Just _one._ In a class setting.

While Hiccup struggled to suppress the rising envy he felt for his fellow Hufflepuff, he suddenly noted a small scribble on one part of the map. It was recently added, if the date was anything to go by. _'Flying creature sighted. Breathes fires. Scaly. Large black wings. Dragon?'_

A dragon in the Forbidden Forest?

He wondered if this could be true. The staff in Hogwarts monitored the Forbidden Forest regularly, to ensure that it wouldn't be a danger to the school, and a dragon would certainly be a cause of alarm. If a dragon had been found there, the school would have done something about it by now…

…Unless, the dragon had only arrived recently, such that the staff in Hogwarts had yet to discover it. That meant no one was aware of the looming threat out there – one that could start raining fire down on them at any moment.

Clutching the map, it suddenly struck the boy that it would be imperative that something be done about this dragon, if Kristoff's sighting proved to be accurate. A responsible student would have taken the information straight to the teachers, except that Hiccup knew they wouldn't believe him. He doubted the blonde boy would reveal his findings to the teachers on his own, given his scornful attitude towards Dragon Fighting Class and the fact that it would land him in a lot of trouble.

No, the dragon's presence needed to be proven first. And the most foolproof way of getting that evidence was to get it himself… in the form of the dragon itself.

A plan was thus hatched in the mind of Hiccup Haddock, as he pondered on how he might dare to attempt the most Viking-like thing he could possibly achieve.

* * *

Evening descended upon the enchanted school all too soon, thereby ending the first day of the new term, and after students had filled their rumbling stomachs with the fulfilling dinner waiting for them in the Great Hall, they set off at once for their house dormitories. Some would get started on their homework right away. Others would lounge about in the cozy armchairs in front of the majestic fireplaces of the common rooms and stay up for a while to chat with their friends. And then there would be some who would just turn in early and go straight to bed.

But in the case of two dark-haired siblings, the boys' robes being accented in emerald green while the girls' had scarlet red, they were walking up to Gryffindor Tower on the seventh floor together.

But unfortunately, the little girl was refusing to so much as speak one word to her older brother.

"Are you still mad?"

 _Stomp. Stomp. Stomp._

"Come on, you know I would never seriously put you in danger, right? You're making a big stink over nothing."

 _Stomp. Stomp. Stomp._

"I'm sure other first years would've been leaping at the chance to have been in your shoes, you know."

 _Stomp. Stomp. Stomp._

"You _still_ won't talk to me?"

 _Stomp. Stomp. Stomp._

"Oh, for the love of Merlin! How can we even be related? You have no sense of fun at all!"

 _Stomp. Stomp. Stomp._

"Okay, fine. Don't talk to me, see if I care. Go ahead and give me the silent treatment forever… _Emmy."_

Pause. Then—

 _Whack!_

Jack yelped as his little sister's messenger bag smacked him across his midsection. "Ow! Sheesh, Emmy. OW! That actually hurts! Why would you do – wait, no, no. Put down the bag. Emmy, Emmy—"

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!" The messenger bag swung out for a third time so fast, Jack couldn't step out of the way. "It's _Emma!"_

"Okay, okay, Emma, truce, okay." The boy had somehow taken on a crouching position, with his arms raised over his head. "Now, if it's possible, can you tone down the violence, please?"

Satisfied that she had managed to punish the miscreant, the younger Overland Frost child smirked tauntingly as Jack rose back to his feet. She was still mad about his silly teasing, of course, but she could barely keep glowering at him as it was.

But then Jack unexpectedly started snickering to himself, and Emma's arms instinctively uncrossed themselves as her expression shifted into complete bewilderment.

"Have you lost whatever marbles you have up there in that thick skull of yours, Jack? What's so funny?"

Her words only made Jack laugh even harder, and he had to wipe a tear from his eye as he flashed Emma a jaunty grin. "You are, Emmy. I got you talking again."

Emma blinked as her mouth fell open a little upon realizing that he was right, but then she puffed out her lower lip, threw her brother another scowl, and then spun around on her heel to march heatedly down the corridor. "It was a one-time mistake. And you can't fool me twice, Jack. I told you, I'm _never_ talking to you again! After this. Very. Sentence."

The boy just chuckled as he matched her quick pace. Trust Emma to throw a fit over him doing something that was _supposed_ to have brought a happy smile onto her sweet face. Not dirty looks and furiously pointed silence. For a kid who seemed to live under the assumption that she was oh-so much more grown up and mature than him, deep down she was just as immature and childish as he was. She just expressed that part of her personality in a different way. "I honestly don't get why you're so mad, Em. I was only trying to show you the castle."

"Is that your clever way of admitting you kidnapped me?"

"Kidnapped? Aw, come on! It wasn't like that at all."

"It wasn't like—?! You beelined to me when you saw me out in the courtyard this afternoon, slung me over your shoulder like I was a sack of potatoes even though I screamed for you to put me down. But did you? No! You thought it'd be funny to use some strange hocus pocus to fly us on that staff of yours – straight up in the air! That's a downright, dirty abduction." There was a vicious snort at the end of her enraged declaration.

The unrepentant sighed happily as he recalled the entire incident. "Come on, Emmy. Back home, you've always begged me to take you flying on a broomstick, but I couldn't without other Muggle folks seeing. Thought you'd, well—" he shrugged "—like a little surprise flight, that's all."

Emma knocked into his thin frame semi-hard with her small body. "Stop calling me 'Emmy,' and I'm mad because you didn't warn me first. What if I had moved the wrong way? Fell off?!"

"Oh, please." Jack made a scoffing sound. "I'm the best flier _ever._ You really think I would've let that happen?"

"I could have still fallen, and you're not the best flier."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not."

"Am too."

"Am not."

"Am too. And you've never watched a single Quidditch match – how would you know how good a flier I am?"

"Because the Quidditch Cup is still sitting in _my_ house, not yours."

Jack opened his mouth to object, only to find that he in fact had nothing to say counter that statement with. Eventually, he backed down. "Alright, fine."

"So…?" The little girl cocked her head expectantly at him.

"I'm not the best flier ever."

"And?"

"I shouldn't have sprung the joyride on you without warning."

"You shouldn't have sprung it on me, period," Emma corrected. "You should have asked me nicely, and then I would have said yes. Then we could go flying peacefully and safely and I don't need to tell Mom about how you tried to kill me."

"You're no fun, you know that, Emmy?"

"Stop calling me Emmy."

"Alright, Emmy." That earned a furious growl from her plus two hard smacks from her messenger bag.

"Ow! Okay, changing topics! So, um—" rubbing his new bruises "—how'd you find your first day at Hogwarts?"

"Well," the girl's wrath subsided slightly as she considered this question. "It was pretty good, to be honest. I hung out a lot with Anna."

"Anna? The girl who sat with us and Hans on the train?"

"Yeah. She's a little crazy – kinda like you, actually – but she's nice. I like her."

Jack smiled. "Hey, that's great! I'm glad you've made a friend, Em."

Emma smiled back. Her brother could be annoying and far too immature ninety percent of the time, but there were instances when he stopped acting like an idiot and instead acted like a good big brother. Those times with Jack were the moments that Emma treasured above all others. "Uh-huh. We sat together in Transfiguration. We were amazed when we saw Professor Bunnymund turn into a real bunny and back at the start of class."

"Ah, so you've met Professor Kangaroo, huh?"

"Who?"

"Professor Bunny. He hates it when I call him out on his accent. I can't count how many times I've gotten detention for calling him that name." He rubbed his chin. "But it really fits him."

"You have no self-control whatsoever, do you?"

"Nope."

"It's not something to be proud of."

"Geez, you really sound like Mom sometimes." The boy shook his head, chuckling lightly. They had reached the seventh floor and were now continuing down the corridor. The Gryffindor quarters were right ahead. "Anyway, wanna meet for lunch tomorrow?"

"I don't mind, but why?"

"So I can take you to the Owlery."

"The Owlery?"

"It's where all the owls in the school are kept, students owls and school owls. We'll find mine and write home together. I'm sure Mom'll want to hear all about your new friend and your first week here."

"Oh." Emma's face brightened up. "That'll be fun. I remember the first time one came to the farm, Mom screamed! If I hadn't pointed out that there was a letter tied to its leg, she would have hit the bird with her frying pan!"

"Man, I would have given _anything_ to have seen in myself."

"Yeah, it _was_ pretty funny. Oh! Here we are!"

Emma picked up the pace, and strolled ahead of Jack to approach a rather large painting on the corridor wall of a rather heavyset woman in a pink silk dress.

Jack glanced down at his sister in puzzlement. He had never been to the Gryffindor common room himself, so he didn't know what the portrait had to do with it. Before he could say anything at all, the Fat Lady turned her attention to the two of them. Upon seeing the green Slytherin accents on his black school robes, her expression turned to disdain, and then she focused solely on Emma.

"Bringing a Slytherin to the common room, little one? You're going to become very unpopular, I'll have you know."

"Oh, no, Miss Fat Lady. My brother's not coming in," Emma corrected her politely. "He just walked me up here. He'll be leaving now."

"A Slytherin? Walking back his Gryffindor sister?" The Fat Lady made a humming song as her glossy, oil-based eyes flickered over him curiously. "How oddly gentlemanly indeed! Unless there be an ulterior motive…"

"None at all," the boy assured her, winking. "Though I wouldn't mind getting a little peek at Gryffindor's pad. Is there really a huge portrait of Godric Gryffindor standing on a tight-rope in his underpants in the common room?"

The strokes that made up the Fat Lady's mouth curved into a distinct frown.

"Ah, I guest not then," Jack lamented, before turning to his sister. "Well, Emmy, this is goodnight, then."

"Don't call me Emmy," she grumbled as he bent down and planted a kiss on her forehead.

"Now, remember." He drew back and wagged a finger at her face. "Brush your teeth, get into bed by ten, and don't think of sneaking out at night—" he shot a furtive look at the Fat Lady portrait before dropping to a whisper "—without consulting me first, because I know all the tricks—"

" _Jack."_ His sister peered disapprovingly up at him.

"All right, all right." He engulfed her in a tight hug. "See you tomorrow, Emma."

And with that, the siblings parted. Jack set off back down the hall, subtly glancing over his shoulder to check on his sister. He saw her say something to the Fat Lady – probably the Gryffindor password – and it made the painting swing forward a moment later. Emma then vanished inside the portrait hole, no doubt to the Gryffindor common room. There. Safe and sound. Big brother duty complete.

As he headed back to the dungeons that were the Slytherin quarters, Jack entertained himself by pondering the idea of challenging Hans to a game of wizard's chess before bed. As he approached the main staircase, however, he was surprised to find another Slytherin along his way.

Princess Elsa of Arendelle had her messenger bag slung over her shoulder as she hurried up the last few steps. When her eyes locked onto Jack standing straight ahead and looking right at her, she halted right in her tracks. Judging by how wide her blue eyes suddenly became, she was shocked. It was clear she hadn't expected to stumble across anyone right now.

Jack didn't say anything to the Muggle-born Slytherin girl at first. As a fellow Muggle-born himself, he had nothing against Elsa. But he barely knew her other than the fact that she was fairly smart, fairly pretty, and fairly good at being invisible most of the time – not literally though. But he had scarcely seen her around outside of class, so he often forgot she existed.

"Evening." He said at last, trying to seem polite.

Creases appeared in the princess' gloves as she wrung her hands together before nodding at the greeting. Jack had no idea why, but she didn't dare drop her guard.

"Good evening," she said quietly.

"What're you doing all the way up here?" he asked curiously, swinging the end of his staff over his shoulder. "Common room's down in the dungeons."

She shifted rather uncomfortably. "I could ask you the same thing."

Jack raised a brow. "My sister's a first year. She got into Gryffindor. I was just walking her up."

"Oh," she said, genuinely surprised. "Well, I hope she enjoys her time here at Hogwarts. Have a good night, then."

And before the boy could say anything else, Elsa hurried her way past him down the seventh-floor hallway, not daring to look back at him even once.

Jack stared after her in complete bewilderment as she hurried down the corridor. She was the crown princess of her Norwegian country, wasn't she? Because that was hardly the level of regal courtesy. She might be the top of their year in terms of book smarts, but she still had a lot to learn when it came to social skills.

With a baffled shake of his head, Jack forced himself to shrug off the strange encounter and continue his way down the stairs. He had a long trek ahead of him to get back to his own common room.

It took him at least another fifteen minutes to get back to the ground floor, even with taking a few of the shortcuts he happened to know about to get downstairs faster. Even so, he was just about worn out when he made it back to the castles' Entrance Hall, but it didn't matter. He was still only halfway to the common room. He tromped his way past the entrance to the Great Hall and into the dungeons, deliberately ignoring the stone passageway that led to the Potions classrooms and instead waltzed down a torch-lit corridor that all the students in Hogwarts other than Slytherins tended to avoid simply because they were unaware of where it truly led.

To them, the stone wall at the apparent dead end of the passageway meant nothing, but to all the silver and green members of the nest of snakes, it was the entryway to their home away from home.

"Callidus," Jack breathed quietly into the silence.

The false stone wall slid aside upon hearing the secret password, and Jack hurried through the entrance.

The luminescence from the various green hanging lamps from the ceiling combined with the watery shadows of the interior of the Black Lake right outside the large windows gave the whole common room a rather creepy vibe, but at the same time, it was the good kind of spookiness. Not so bad that people would be too freaked out to hang around in, but just enough to make people want to check out the place. Some Slytherins were lounging about in a few of the leather sofas in front of the fireplace across the way as they chatted and caught up with each other from the long summer break. Others were pouring over their textbooks at a few of the study tables and were getting a head start on homework they'd already been assigned, and then in one corner there was the oh-so-arrogant Flynn Rider. He seemed to be trying to draw the attention of everyone else by playing Exploding Snap as loudly as he could with his two buddies – those horrible fifth year Stabbington brothers – and yelling boisterously at the top of his lungs whenever he won a round.

His obnoxious behavior was mostly ignored, however, since everyone's eyes seemed to be fixed on two people that were situated at a small study table in the very back corner.

"Okay, wait, wait. So, you have how many brothers?"

"Twelve older brothers. Three of them pretended that I was invisible, literally. For two years."

"That's horrible!"

Jack blinked in disbelief. Hans was scribbling something down on a roll of parchment with his quill as little Gryffindor Anna chattered away into his ear. He wasn't really paying all that much attention to her since he was preoccupied with his homework, but he was still polite enough to continue conversing with her.

It was just as much a shock to Jack what he was seeing as it was to everyone else in the common room. It was one thing for Jack to hang out with Emma after dinner, because even though she was in the rival house, she was his sister, so people couldn't really comment about it. But Hans was not only spending time with Anna, a Muggle-born Gryffindor that he had no direct relation with, but he apparently had let her, a non-Slytherin student, into the common room.

The youngest prince of the Southern Isles technically hadn't broken any school rules, as students from one house were indeed allowed to let their friends from other houses into their common rooms if they really wanted to. But there were unspoken rules, and one such unspoken rule of the secretive Slytherin House was that outsiders should stay where they belonged – which was, well, _outside._ School legend said that the last time an outsider entered the Slytherin Dungeon was over seven centuries ago. But of course, that record had finally been broken today. Just what the hell was going through Hans' head?

"Hey," said the Overland boy, swinging his staff back over his shoulder as he forced himself to walk up to his friend as per normal. "What's up?"

Hans just briefly nodded to him, but his eyes didn't once leave the sentence he was reading in his Transfiguration textbook as he did so. Anna however spun around, giving him her full and undivided attention.

"Oh, hi! Jack! Hi, Jack! Good to see you again," she said cheerfully. "How are you?"

"I'm good, thanks. And you?"

"Never been better! Hogwarts is so nice!" Anna proclaimed, her smile stretching from ear to ear. "I wish I could have come here sooner. I love all my classes, and your sister Emma? She's so sweet!"

Jack chuckled. "Yeah, I just walked her up to the Gryffindor room. She mentioned she hung out with you today."

"Uh-huh. We're already great friends. I'm so glad I met both of you yesterday. Oh, and Hans, of course," she quickly added, her cheeks reddening considerably as she spared a peek over her shoulder at the still focused prince. "I'm glad I met him, too."

It took all the willpower Jack had to not cautiously glance back over his shoulder to try and see if anyone else heard that last bit, before staring down at the smitten young girl. Normally, that wouldn't really matter. She was eleven, he was fourteen. It was a childhood infatuation that wouldn't go anywhere because of the obvious age difference, not to mention the sheer irrationality of it. But not only was Anna a Gryffindor, she was Muggle-born. It was only the end of her first day being a part of the Wizarding world, and she had yet to understand the concept of blood purists, especially in Slytherin house. Hans was a pure-blood, but he generally didn't care about such dumb stuff. But everyone else in Slytherin?

Unless she started being a little less obvious about her feelings, this was going to be massive social suicide.

"Well, Prince Sideburns is great and all, but he's such a drag. Observe! Exhibit A." He waved his arm exaggeratedly in Hans' direction to emphasize, speaking with a manner of mock tragedy. "While everyone else in this room is engaged in some form of social interaction, Carrot-top here prefers to bury himself in studies, because he's boring, and also not very bright."

Hans finally glanced up at that comment, and shot Jack an irritable scowl as Anna giggled.

"Must you, Jack?"

"Well, why shouldn't I, Hansy?" Jack quipped, an amused grin spreading across his lips. "Other than Quidditch, all you do is study."

"You know I have to," Hans deflected. "If I don't get at least ten Outstandings in our O.W.L.'s next year, there's no way I'll become Minister one day."

"Yeah, yeah. Keep dreaming, Prince. The odds of that are a million to one."

"O.W.L.'s? Minister?" Anna cut in, sounding generally puzzled.

"Ordinary Wizarding Levels," Hans explained. "They're special exams all students take in their fifth year. They determine whether or not a student can continue certain subjects in their sixth and seventh years."

"If you pass them, you can, but if not, you have to drop the subject," Jack added. "Certain jobs in the magical world require people to have passed a certain number of O.W.L.'s."

"Oh, I see," Anna said, nodding her head along as she heard the explanation. "But… what about the Minister?"

"Minister of Magic. They're the one elected to be the leader of all witches and wizards in Northern Europe."

"Queen Elinor of Dunbroch is the current Minister," Hans added, straightening his collar unconsciously. "I wish to follow in her footsteps."

"Wow, that's pretty amazing," said the small girl, her eyes sparkling as she absorbed this new information.

"Yeah, yeah. Hans has the most original plan in life in the world." Jack rolled his eyes. He had heard more than his fair share of Hans' ambition. He didn't even need to lie to Anna about that – they were boring. "Anyway, what're you doing here, Anna? What's a little lion cub like you—" he wriggled a brow at her, making the girl burst out in laughter and Hans look more annoyed than before "—doing in the nest of snakes like this?"

"Well, I was chatting with Hans. He was just telling me all about his mean older brothers," the girl cooed sympathetically.

Hans merely shrugged. "They're jerks, no question about that. But what can I say? It's what brothers do."

"And sisters," the princess added, a bitter note at the end of it.

"Sisters?" Jack asked, finding himself intrigued. "You mean, Elsa?"

"Yeah. Elsa and I used to be really close when we were little, but one day she just shut me out, and—" the small first year student wrung her hands together "—I never knew why."

"She is rather reclusive, I'll give you that, but you two don't hang out at all?"

Anna sadly shook her head. "Nope. I was waiting to see her outside right now – I wanted to tell her all about my first day here. But she didn't turn up, and then Hans told me I should just come in and wait." The girl glanced at the grandfather clock sitting at the end of the common room. "I hope she gets back soon. I gotta get back to my house before curfew starts."

"She might be looking for you, actually," Jack stated. "I saw her on my way back from walking Emmy to Gryffindor Tower. She was hanging around the seventh floor."

"She was? Really?" Anna exclaimed, her bright blue eyes lighting up with hope. "I better go find her, then."

"All right. See you later, Anna."

"Yes, bye, Jack! Bye, Hans!"

With one last cheerful smile and even a little friendly wave, the little princess skipped her way past the rest of the Slytherins that had been silently watching all that had unfolded. She had not noticed them, thank goodness, and left the dungeon common room without another word.

As soon as she was gone, Jack let out a breath of relief he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. That'd been way too close. Thank Merlin none of the other blood purists' jerks in the house had tried anything while she was here. Hopefully, Anna's visit to the Slytherin common room would be a one-time thing.

"You two are cut from the same cloth, Farm Boy."

Jack jerked out of his thoughts. "What was that?"

"The same cloth. You two," the prince reiterated, still not looking up as he dipped his quill into his small ink pot. "I've never seen such devotion between siblings before."

Jack chuckled and awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, what can I say? I know you don't get along with your brothers, but Emmy, well, she means everything to me. And I'm guessing that's how Anna feels for her sister, too."

Hans merely nodded, his feather quill whizzing its way across his parchment. When he was finally done, he pointedly gestured to the empty seat across from him.

Jack stared down at the chair, then back up at his friend. He was puzzled.

"The night's still young," the prince told him. "You can still catch up with me. I'm at Chapter Seven."

The brown-haired boy stared at him for a long moment, before grabbing a decorative pillow from the nearby sofa, and tossing it right at the prince's head.

" _Oof! Jack!"_


	4. The March of Heroes

**Elphaba818's Author Note:**

 **Wow... I can't believe it's been six months since this has been updated. Seriously, the last update was back in October, and it's March now. I never wanted there to be such a long hiatus in between these two chapters, especially since I can't wait to start writing all the fun stuff Shar and I've got planned for the tournament later on in this story. But what can I say? Life happens.**

 **Right after the last chapter was posted online, it was pretty close to college exam times for Shar and me, and we both had to focus on school. Then it was the holidays, and after the holidays, I went on vacation to Disney World for my birthday back in January before the spring semester started. I know Shar's been updating some of her other stories on her profile, so she's been busy writing in her free time, but as for me? This is a hard semester for me since I've been busy with not only my 2D Foundations class for my Animation degree, but also my Directing and Adv. Film Production class for my regular Filmmaking degree, and since Directing and Adv. Production have so much homework, I've been so swamped lately I haven't had any time to write.**

 **Plus, that's not taking in account the amount of time it takes Shar and me to swap PM's back and forth to get chapters ready. It's a team effort to write this fanfic, and we both write half of each chapter by writing the POV's of two or three characters at a time, and then we have to send the rough drafts to one another so we can edit each other's work and state whether or not we want to change anything in the sections before we can post it online. So yeah, it can take us awhile to update.**

 **Anyway, I'm rambling here. Let's get back to the story, shall we? Lol.**

 **I'm really pleased with how this chapter turned out. We finally get to meet the competitor schools! Perhaps those of you who like to read in between the lines will be able to figure out just from this chapter alone who will make up the rival teams against Hogwarts. ;D**

 **There's no Elsa POV again unfortunately, but don't worry! Everyone's favorite winter royal will turn up again very soon!**

 **Now, onto my usual thanking of all the nice reviewers!**

 **\- imafangirlforever**

 **\- IReviewThings**

 **\- Lightningpanda**

 **\- Cloud4012**

 **\- 300PASTA**

 **\- Guest (x2) (In the future, please leave a name so I can properly acknowledge you in any future AU notes)**

 **\- Starlord**

 **\- LavenderMoonRose**

 **\- CenturysRuin**

 **\- Kit**

 **Thank you! All eleven of you! Your kind reviews are what make the creative juices between Shar and me continuously flowing! I hope you will all leave us nice reviews again! :D**

 **Read, review, and above all, enjoy the chapter!  
**

* * *

 **SharKohen's Author Note:**

 **Greetings all! Just a remainder that story is sort of taking place in like mid 1870s, compared to the original Harry Potter that's in like the 1990s. So just try to wince too hard at the weird mish-mash of historicity attempted here. Gracias.**

* * *

 **Chapter Four: The March of Heroes**

"In what period of time was the printing press invented in Muggle Europe?"

No one answered, because no one cared. Well, okay, not that no one cared, but… ugh, who was anyone kidding? Really, no one cared.

"May I have a volunteer for this?" Gothel's tone was getting testy, and that meant that she was irritated.

Rapunzel sighed as she added another curly vine to the intricate lily that she had been illustrating on her parchment. Truth be told, she knew the answer, because she had read the textbook for Muggle Studies inside out dozens of times already. Hour after hour stuck in the same tower, one ran out of reading material fast. But she didn't want to look like the teacher's pet – it was bad enough that it was her own mother teaching, after all. She had made that mistake First Year, and had regretted it deeply ever since.

She added a trail of dots around the lilies for flourish, while her mother tried to coax an answer out of a student sitting in the front row. Rapunzel didn't really note what was said, but it was obvious that the student was quite unenthusiastic about the lesson, and also had not read the assigned materials.

"Sit down," her mother barked, clearly irritated. As the slovenly student took his seat, she whipped around, curls falling elegantly over her velvet-covered shoulder. A dark smile spread across her face as she said, barely concealing the threat, "Would anyone else like to try?"

' _Eh, not really,'_ was the reply that the silence gave.

With half the page filled with the swirly motifs of flowers, Rapunzel decided that the bottom half would be of maple leaves. As she proceeded to sketch out the jagged curves, she felt a little wriggling against her. Giggling slightly, she pulled open her cardigan slightly. This allowed the little reptile nestled in its inner pocket to better observe the artistry process. Carefully adjusting her arm, so that it would still block her illustrations from Mother's view, she resumed her doodles.

As she did, her mind couldn't help drifting off to elsewhere in the giant castle, where no doubt a bunch of students were also huddled together around petrified specimens, or maybe anatomy textbooks, or maybe studying potions of various sorts. An unbidden jealousy rose inside Rapunzel as she thought of all those lucky students; spending their time in electives far more interesting and meaningful than Muggle Studies.

Now, Rapunzel wasn't the sort to hold a grudge against half-bloods, Muggle-borns, or Muggles. Her interaction with other people was so limited that the whole notion of blood prejudice was something she only understood by second-hand accounts. To her, as long as a person could do magic, that's all there was to it. And even if that person couldn't, that didn't mean that they hadn't equal value. After all, Mother couldn't, but she was still trying to make the world a better place, albeit through the rather tedious and inefficient Muggle curriculum.

Mother didn't always say it so in plain words – she usually heavily implied it through innocent-sounding remarks – but she didn't like this job any more than Rapunzel liked having a parent for a teacher. She only did it to protect her. It was Mother's way of being noble and sacrificing, and as a daughter, she should be nothing but grateful.

But it didn't stop the young Ravenclaw for yearning to be in the Medi-Wizardry classroom instead. After all, what good was it to learn about the Muggle world? She might live in Muggle territory, but the tower of her residence was so far isolated from them that she would never interact with them, anyway. But with that in mind, learning Medi-Wizardry too would be pointless if she was never going to stay long enough in the Wizarding world to use it. No matter what she did, nothing was ever going to change.

A shudder ran down her spine, so abrupt that her sketching hand froze. A pang of loneliness in her chest was so loud that for a second, it drowned out her mother's droning. It was like in that moment, as she stared into the loneliness that awaited her, the loneliness started staring back.

Good old Pascal must have guessed her line of thought, for he then chittered a comforting chitter. As long as he was around, she would never be alone.

Breaking out of her melancholy thoughts, she smiled just slightly. "Thanks, Pascal." She brushed her forefinger over his head, to which he responded with a musical purr. "You always know what to say."

"Rapunzel?" her mother's voice rang out. "Do you know the answer?"

Startled by the call, but guarding her expression so that she would not reveal so, the blonde girl rose slowly to her feet and said, "The late 14th century?"

It was the correct answer, but for some reason it started off a series of snickers around the class. Mother's face had severe disappointment written all over it, her thin lips downturned and her wiry fingers curled around the pointer rather waspishly.

"Rapunzel," her mother said in an even tone, but there was annoyance in the way her jaw tightened. "The question we are on now is concerned with _where,_ and not _when,_ the printing press in Europe started."

The girl cringed, cheeks burning red with shame.

"Sit down." Mother's manner was neutral, but Rapunzel knew that she would be hearing about this after class.

Miserably, the blonde plonked back down on her seat. She knew that Pascal was squeaking some comfort to her, but it didn't change the facts.

"Would someone else like to try?" Her mother had continued on. A hand shot up somewhere else in the classroom and Rapunzel noted that it belonged to the reserved young royal of the class. "Yes, Princess Elsa?"

The chair didn't even scratch the floor as the slender, regal girl stood up. Her voice was quiet. "It started in Germany."

"Excellent, your highness." Her mother's rare smile appeared as the princess took her seat once more. "Yes, while the printing has its roots as far back as 5th century China, its origin in late 14th century Europe was in Germany, where Johannes Gutenberg was influenced both by the Chinese's print work and ancient Roman cod—"

She was cut off by rapping on the classroom doorframe. All eyes went straight to the Gryffindor student standing there, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling.

"Miss Motunui," her mother hissed acridly. "I hope this interruption has an excellent reason behind it."

The girl's bushy curtain of black curls swished behind her as her head swung towards the teacher. "Oh, certainly, Professor Gothel." Swinging back to the students, she called, "Everyone – outside right now! They're coming!"

"Who?" someone in the classroom asked.

"The Tournament schools!" That was the only answer they got before the girl disappeared. She reappeared a few seconds later, gazing at the stunned students incredulously. "Why're you all still here? Get off your butts – you'll want to see this!"

And then she vanished again, but her voice could be heard echoing back up from down the corridor, where she was undoubtedly hollering the same to the next class.

The students of the Muggle Studies elective all glanced at each other. Their teacher rolled her eyes, and started to say, "Come, let's not lose our wits here. We've only got forty more minutes, so let's—"

Then, a good half of the students shot out of their seats and dashed towards the door. The other half left watched them in gaping mouths, before shortly doing the same.

"What is – wait, students!" The professor's voice rang out loud and clear. "Where're all of you going? We have a syllabus to cover!"

But no one really cared, so no one really listened, not even her goody-two shoes daughter, who had been one of the first to burst out of the room.

By the time Rapunzel made it to the stairwell, it was flooded with students, all eagerly moving like a descending tide down the stone steps. One hand she used to scoop her long braid to her chest, so that no one would step on it. The other she used to hug her cardigan to herself, so that Pascal wouldn't fall out of it. For all her distaste for isolation, she didn't pretend to enjoy squeezing through the full strength of the Hogwarts student body.

She didn't know exactly where she ought to go, but she saw mostly students rushing towards the Viaduct Courtyard. It made sense, since any visitors would make their entrance through, well, the entrance of the castle.

Yet, as she scurried from the quadrangle to the Viaduct itself, she saw the entire walkway full of fellow students, not any of the promised visitors. So, where were they?

She noted that most of the students were leaning over the right side of the balustrade, squashing their faces between the pillars to gaze out to the harbor. While she was not usually the type to push her way through things, she gritted her teeth and wriggled her way past her peers for a better look out down the chasm. Pascal had crawled up to her shoulder so that he could get a taste of the action.

What Rapunzel saw made her wish that she had a pencil and a pad.

The murky-colored clouds, that were always part of the Scottish landscape, had been unusually parted with bright beams of sunlight lending a rather ethereal quality to the unfolding scene. And indeed, in itself the scene was already quite ethereal, for in the sea of dark clouds stood a giant peach tree above a wispy, gold cloud.

The tree itself looked humongous from a distance, and Rapunzel could imagine that it would be as tall as the Astronomy Tower, if the two would ever be put side to side. It glowed a warm, welcoming yellow, and its large branches began to grow, spreading out like twirling curls in the sky. As the branches grew, they began to split into smaller versions of themselves, eventually taking the form of wooden vines.

As they reached towards the nearby cliff, the long vines had twisted themselves into the forms of several long, winded suspension bridges. There were shouts of amazement and awe as figures were seen emerging from the peach tree, either through the giant peach blossoms or the massive trunks, and moving onto the winding bridges connecting sky to ground.

The figures themselves were too far to be seen properly, but from the whispers around her, Rapunzel learned that these were probably the students from Ilvermorny. That made her eyes widen in surprise.

Not much was known about the American magic school, except that it was founded by some Irish witch in the early 1600's, making it one of the youngest magical schools ever. Because of that, it was said that the magic practiced there was rather unusual, being a confluence of European magic, traditional magic of the American Natives, and a dash of mystic influence from its various immigrants. It was rather 'unconventional,' an adjective that most in Hogwarts used in a sneering manner.

But as Rapunzel gazed upon the giant peach tree in the sky, the gorgeous, intricately-crafted bridges that emerged from it, she was filled with nothing but awe.

"Look!" someone along the Viaduct called out. "Down in the water!"

All heads immediately dipped down towards the tossing lake waves. Upon every quaking surface, giant bubbles could be seen, clustering together into a swirl of white foam before — _SPPPPPPPPPPLLLLLLLASSSSSSSSHHHHHH!_

It was so loud that several students had to cover their ears, but the grins on their faces only grew wider as they saw the massive submarine that had emerged from under the waves.

Rapunzel had seen pictures of submarines before in the various encyclopedias that Mother had dumped on her shelf, but nothing was quite like seeing one in person. Moreover, the submarine that she was craning her neck to stare at was nothing like those she saw in her books.

Its top was a tented shape, allowing the water to roll down its sides rapidly. Each side to the peak was covered with a multitude of large metallic gears, rolling rapidly against one another. It was a giant clockwork mechanism that powered its propellers, letting the submarine sail forward as smoothly as any ship could, but far quicker. Rapunzel watched in fascination as the submarine navigated smoothly around the stone formations in the water, a feat only possible due to its streamlined design. As the submarine drew closer, the two large panels that formed its roof suddenly separated, gears still rolling and clicking as much as before to reveal a long platform beneath it. By some miracle of machinery, that platform began to rise.

The Hogwarts students watching could barely speak, and if they could, they only uttered words like _'Whoa!'_ or _'Are you seeing this?!'_. This excitement only grew when the metallic platform was revealed to be carrying an entire assembly of students, all dressed in colorful robes that Rapunzel had never seen before. They all waved gracefully towards the Hogwarts students crowded on the Viaduct, who all eagerly waved back, cheering and hooting as the submarine continued its course towards a lower cliff. That would be where the students, who must be from Mahoutokoro School of Magic, would alight.

"Alright, alright, that's quite enough, _rebyata!"_ she heard an accented voice boom down the Viaduct corridor. Professor North's giant hands were on his hips, his deep frown not hidden by his thick beard. He pointed a big meaty finger down towards the courtyard. "Now, you bag of mischiefs be back in your classroom once I reach _dvat-sat._ Otherwise—" he cracked his massive knuckles meaningfully.

The threat itself was enough to make any student shudder. Well, except one student raised his hand. "Sir, we don't know Russian, so errr… what's _'dvat-sat?'"_

Professor North only shot him a wicked grin. "That's the point, no?" Spinning towards the other students, he bellowed, _"AH-DEEN! DVAH!—"_

That was enough to send the gawking students scrambling, Rapunzel included. She raced back across the courtyard, hair still hanging off her arm and Pascal secured back in his spot. She leapt up the stairs two at a time, and even at this distance, she could still hear the Deputy Headmaster's roared numbers. Along with her other classmates, she hurried back to her desk. Her mother had not left the classroom, and she cast a rather severe look towards her daughter.

Inwardly, the girl winced. The talk her mother would give her tonight would be very, very lengthy indeed.

While waiting for the other pupils to hurry back in, the blonde took a cursory glance around the room, and was surprised to note that the Princess of Arendelle was in her seat, head ducked down in her textbook, intent in her reading. She hadn't participated in the hullabaloo, it seemed, and possibly never left her desk at all. Odd, but perhaps it was just some princess thing that Rapunzel wouldn't understand.

After the last student had filed back in, her mother took up the floor again, a wide, thin smile spread from cheek-to-cheek. Instantly, Rapunzel tensed with dread.

" _Weeellll—"_ her mother was sure to drag it out in an overtly bright manner, which was a warning sign in itself "—now that we're back, we'll be having a little test on the chapter."

This sent a cry of dismay throughout the class, who hadn't read the prep materials nor paid any attention earlier on.

"Now, now, stop this whining," Mother hushed them sharply as she passed down the sheets. "It's frightfully immature, not to mention very annoying."

As she took her own test sheet, Rapunzel did not join her peers in grumbling. Instead, her quill went quickly down the line and began filling the blanks. Her thoughts were occupied with colors, and she could see the shades spread across her canvas, from the brilliant sun that shone from the giant peach tree in the sky down to the mechanical wonder that was shooting through the lake waves. It would be her new project, and the notion of that was enough to brighten her mood.

Perhaps she ought to add a new creative hobby to her repertoire to pass the time this year since Mother wouldn't let her change classes. Frog Choir was always looking for new members, and her little scaly green pal could pass as a frog if no one looked at him too closely. She'd have to remember to run this idea past Pascal later when her mother wasn't around.

Her life was never going to change, but there was nothing stopping her from enjoying what she could never have, if only at a distance.

* * *

"If they're all from America, why do they look so different?" was the musing from Astrid as they sat squashed with the other Gryffindors.

All heads had been turned in the direction to the center of the hall, and bodies too followed where the heads must be. The guests of the Tag-Team Tournament had been making their grandiose entrance, and the students of Hogwarts would not surrender their spots to watch the show.

And my, what a show it was! The students of Ilvermorny could have chosen just to march into the Great Hall of Hogwarts in their robes while chiming their school song, but they didn't. They rolled in giant drums that sounded like thunder while their peers, dressed in loose, grand robes, began an acrobatic dance like nothing Merida had ever seen. In fact, the nature of the dance was so fierce, so measured, so precise that it felt more like a fighting style than a dance. From what Astrid had told her, these 'martial arts' were pretty much that.

"They say that all kinds of people all over the world go to America," came the redhead's answer to her friend. "No doubt they'd bring with them many things."

At that moment, one of the Ilvermorny students came leaping forward with a long, curved sword, swishing it rapidly over his head charging toward an unarmed fellow student. This made all the spectators gasp in horror, but that concern was quickly proven to be unwarranted. The unarmed student, a tall girl with bronze skin and black lines painted across her face, smoothly rolled out of the way of her assailant, sliding to her feet with such grace that Merida could almost imagine herself to be at the ballet. That was, until the sword came slashing at her. The tall girl stretched herself forward, missing the strike whilst simultaneously grabbing hold of her opponent's wrist, twisting it sharply. This forced her opponent to drop his weapon to the ground. She didn't stop there however, but proceeded to grab his elbow with her free hand. Before anyone could blink, the opponent went sailing over her head, then landed face down on the ground.

The two Gryffindor girls gawked open-mouthed while the rest of Hogwarts burst in resounding applause. It was a wonder that the Great Hall hadn't exploded right then and there.

"No weapons – imagine that," the Scottish girl whispered in almost reverent awe. "And right over the head."

"Eh, I can do that too," Astrid disagreed, but admitted, "Won't look as graceful though."

After yet another impressive 'martial arts' routine, a jaw-dropping acrobatics performance and another sparring display, the floor was handed over to the Mahoutokoro students. It had been doubtful that they could outdo the other school's performance, but those had been proven unfounded.

From what Merida heard of this Japanese school, they had a history that could easily rival Hogwarts' own. Indeed, they had once been reputed to be even more traditionally-rooted than their Scottish counterpart, trained in arts as ancient as the moon itself. They had kept to themselves and didn't care to interact much with others abroad, not even fellow wizards. It was only more recently under their new Emperor's 'Restoration' project that Mahoutokoro had undergone a major overhaul. They had become a 'modern' school, embarking on a quest for knowledge so bold that it'd make the bravest wizards in the West stagger. They were said to be quite obsessed with the Muggle's magic-like counterpart called 'Science,' though most blood-purists would jeer and say that's all just hogwash.

"Good evening, all," the headmaster of Mahoutokoro greeted them. "I am Professor Alistair Krei."

He was a tall thin man, and certainly not Japanese. In fact, quite a number of the staff of the school weren't native to the Eastern islands. From the grapevine, it seemed Mahoutokoro had been eager to engage the best, most 'modern' wizarding teachers from the West, and any other students that agreed with the school's daring vision. Merida vaguely remembered some years back how her mother complained about how this Krei fellow kept hounding the Ministry to invest in the 'Science' that Muggles loved so much. It was clear that he had given up and sought to further his ambitions abroad.

Merida didn't like his face. It was too angular, too sharp.

"It is with great pride and pleasure that Mahoutokoro presents the great works of our very own students." He bowed deeply, with a grin far too cunning for Merida's taste. "Enjoy."

The light of the hall had been dimmed, and with that, the student body fell silent in anticipation. A faint whirring sound was heard, along with the clicking of gears. In the darkness, suddenly there was a flicker, a crackle, and then a whitish, purplish light appeared in from the center of the hall. Contained within a floating inverted glass flask and balanced upon a black pole, it emitted a low-hum and occasional crackles while dancing along the transparent surface. It was possibly the most fascinating thing anyone in the room had ever seen.

"What's that?" Astrid whispered to her friend.

Merida could only shrug. "Maybe some kind of Japanese thing."

"It's electricity."

The two girls dipped their heads down towards a tiny boy who was crouching in front of them. From his colors, he was from Hufflepuff, and should in fact not be sitting at their table. He must have snuck up here to get a better view. His cheeky grin and starry-eyed expression made him out to be a first year, so Merida decided not to tell him off.

When the young lad noted their befuddled faces, he added, "It's that thing from lightning, you know. Benjamin Franklin?"

"Sounds vaguely familiar," Merida murmured just as Astrid mused, "Not ringing any bells here."

"Shh!" someone along the table hissed. "We're watching here."

Under the faint glow of this 'electricity' thing, two of the Mahoutokoro students could be seen crouching down next to an odd-looking device. This device consisted of two giant spools of metal wires, swirling back and forth as the two students took turns to wind it.

Near them, there was another student, a tall Japanese boy with dark hair and a pleasant countenance. There was a bright smile across his face as he said in perfect English, "Good friends of Hogwarts, the following presentation will only use minimal magic, but I ask you, for your own safety—" his grin widened even more "—do not rise from your seats."

He shot quick glances to various peers spread down across the Great Hall, each holding some kind of coil on a stick. All of them were crouched to the ground. Suddenly Merida had a huge urge to duck down and cover her head. Not that she was scared, or anything – just in case, you know.

The Japanese boy then crouched down himself, before removing his wand and whispering a spell that Merida couldn't catch.

The glass contained exploded, but the gasps of the audience couldn't be heard as the bob of 'electricity' suddenly stretched its tendrils out, shooting around the room with an ear-splitting 'CRACK!'

The redhead slapped her hands over her ears, like most of the others around the room, while she watched these lightning-like bolts bounce across the different metal coils around the dining space. It was terrifying, yet fascinating how these loud, dangerous sparks could move so quickly, so elegantly through the air. In the past three years in Hogwarts, she had always seen it draped in the orange hue of the candles, but here, she could see it illuminated by the purest, whitest light. As she slowly removed her hands from her ears, she realized that the crude noises were not just loud crashing sounds, but—

"Astrid!" She yanked her friend's hands from her ears, much to the blonde girl's dismay. "Are you hearing what I'm hearing?"

"What are you—" the Viking's grumble stopped short as both of them heard loud and clear in the fizzing, crashing madness—

'— _old and BA-ld, or yoUNG with SCAB-by kneeees, Our HEADS could do with FILL-ling, with SOMe IN-te-RES-ting stUUUUUFFFFF—'_

"It's the school song!" someone nearby exclaimed. This revelation was barely heard at all under the horrifying, yet awesome, buzzing from above—

'— _no-OW they're BARE and FULL of AIR, de-AD FLIIIEESSS and bits of flUUUFFFFFF!'_

"How are they doing that?" Astrid yelled, her hands flying back to her ears. Yet, she couldn't move her gaze from the dazzling spectacle over their heads.

Merida could only shrug and cover her own ears. The booming words could still be heard anyway.

'— _Briiinnnggg BACK what we've FOR-got'_ the dancing lights above continued to sing in their eccentric, otherworldly voices. _'Just DOoooo your BEST we'll do thEEEE RE-ssssssttt, and LE-arn un-TIL ouuurrrr braaa-INNNSS ALLL ROTTTTTTTT!'_

 _CRWAAAAACCCCCKKKK!_ And the purple spindles of electricity vanished in the dark.

As the natural lights came back on, the Great Hall was erupted with thunderous applause. Students from all three schools instantly show to their feet, letting out a mix of cheers, whistles, and screams. Even the teachers didn't hide their approval, joining in on the enthusiastic ovation. The only ones who didn't seem to be very pleased with the display were some of the stuffier Slytherins, who had chosen to frown and fold their arms tight to their chests.

But nobody cared about them. Oh no, all eyes were on the stars. The Mahoutokoro students involved in the display lined themselves up in the center of the hall. At the cue of the tall Japanese boy, who Merida reckoned was the leader of the group, they bowed. The applause then swelled to near deafening volumes, with some even calling for an encore.

Their headmaster then went up to join them, clapping them on the shoulders and ushered them off the stage. As they began clearing out the equipment, the noise died down just enough for Headmaster Lunar to proclaim, "Come, Hogwarts! Tonight, in honor of our extremely talented guests!"

This the students happily obliged, and perhaps a little too much, with some people screaming so fanatically at the top of their lungs that others might wonder that they were possessed. But a sharp gesture by the balding Headmaster was enough to quieten the hall once more. Everyone settled back to their right seats, including that Hufflepuff boy who had been sitting at their bench. Good riddance.

"Before we begin the feast—" there were a couple of groans from the back end, but Manny's sharp look silenced them "—the chairperson of the Tournament will give us a few words. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, the Minister of Magic, Queen Elinor of Dunbroch!"

Merida found herself rising off her seat automatically, her jaw dropping at the same time. Whilst her peers applauded politely, she stared dumbstruck at her mother's elegant form, draped in Ministry colors and looking the very image of a politician, leaving her seat to join the Headmaster in front. How the girl hadn't noticed her there before, she wasn't too sure, but in all the chaotic festivity – you know, _fun stuff_ – her stiff, law-abiding mother was the last person she expected to see here – a school that she had described so often as barbaric and crude.

But Elinor Dunbroch here now was not the strict parent, but the benevolent Minister, smiling graciously down upon the student body. She took the podium whilst Headmaster Lunar stepped away, the wide, welcoming smile that Merida so often failed to imitate. "Students and staff from all parts of the world – welcome!"

This was met with cheers.

"It has been years since my own schooling years, and I remember my own excitement in seeing the Tournament come to life."

Of course, her mother didn't say that her schooling years were spent in Beauxbatons, not Hogwarts, and that hers was the real Triwizard Tournament, not some silly watered-down version that the Tag-Team Tournament was. Merida let out a sniff as she plopped herself back on the bench, scowling.

"There's nothing quite like competition to bring out the truth of one's character and indeed, the worth of it," the Minister continued on, smiling so brilliantly that it hurt to look at her. "The team behind the Tournament has designed this with the very best of their abilities, and I have no doubt that whether you are participant or spectator, it will be a game of your life time."

Again, obligatory applause. Merida ran a nail along the bench, foot tapping unconsciously. She saw a student at the Hufflepuff table let out a yawn and felt a surge of embarrassment. She knew how boring her own mother's lectures were, of course. Did she have to bring her boringness to Hogwarts?

Now her mother was waxing some prose about the beauty of teamwork, and the virtue of good sportsmanship, and all the things that she already knew because she played Quidditch, but _oh wait,_ that's an activity her mother didn't approve of because _'princesses don't engage in such rough, filthy activities and really, Merida, you couldn't just take up crocheting like that Lady What's-her-name.'_

Not caring if anyone saw her, the redhead buried her face in her arms.

Eventually, her mother ceased the droning on the character of individuals, but started talking about every single member involved in organizing the Tournament. At the same time, she would only talk about their role in a vague fashion, in fear of giving away information about the Tournament itself. Like _'Headmaster Oogway has been deeply keen to challenge the wits of the students, and Headmaster Krei has been keen to challenge the innovation. So, you will be sure to find that the Tasks ahead of you will test both your wits and your innovation, hand in hand.'_ Yes, yes, very informative.

"And last but certainly not least, we cannot forget our lovely benefactors of the tournament, and our most esteemed personage," her mother's voice never wavered the slightest through all the ridiculousness that she talked about, "Their royal majesties, the King and Queen of Corona."

The applause for this pair was surprisingly enthused, but perhaps it was because they were the last in this boring speech and everyone was quite ready for this to be over. Indeed, even the regal pair that rose to wave at the students appeared quite fatigued, a mood that could not be hidden behind their grand robes with the sun-shaped motifs, nor their gleaming sun-shaped ornaments. They really liked suns, didn't they?

"Thank you, Minister," Headmaster Lunar had smoothly interjected before her mother could speak again – thank Merlin that he did. Merlin swore that she'd scream if she heard anything more about character building and teamwork. "So, before it goes any further in the night, I must present to you what we have long been anticipating."

"Food?" someone along the table whispered hopefully.

Manny raised his wand briefly and the lights of the hall were dimmed once more. He then seemed to have whispered something to her mother, who though briefly fazed by her speech being cut short, was once more donning the pleasant façade of the Minister once more. She descended from the podium and approached an odd-looking structure that stood in the front of the hall. Merida had never seen it there before, but had not taken note of it, thinking it was meant to be one of the props for either the Ilvermorny or Mahoutokoro's performance.

Her mother approached the strange structure, which had its full form obscured by the black drape upon it. With her perfectly manicured fingers, she grabbed the corner of the cloth and yanked away, filling the hall with blue light.

There stood a giant cup, only that it wasn't really a cup since it didn't have handles, and indeed it would be quite ridiculous to try lifting it with one hand, for it was made entirely of smooth granite and was as tall as her mother. Its sides were encrusted with gems, along with elaborate motifs that suggested it was only a little less ancient than the school. From its mouth was an ultramarine flame, a bubbling, flowing sort of thing that vibrated with a life-like energy, almost like that 'electricity' thing from before.

"The Goblet of Fire," Manny spoke, "has been the impartial decider of competitors since the first Tournament, and that tradition shall be carried on still. Those eligible may cast theirs and their teammates names into the goblet's flame after tomorrow." His tone became graver, more somber. "May the best team win."

Everyone clapped as the lights returned back to the hall. Then, an opulent spread of dishes appeared on the table, and all matters of the Tournament was forgotten. After all, food was much more important.

Merida diligently stacked her plate with as much as it could carry, then turned to digging in it. She deliberately refused to look towards the long tables in the front. She would not catch her mother's eye, and hope that somehow, she would be overlooked in the sea of students.

Of course, that was wishful thinking. The Dunbroch curls were too prominent a feature. Still, a girl could dream.

At this point, it was obvious that Astrid hadn't been stuffing her guts the way she normally did, so the red-haired princess asked, "What's the matter?"

"Ilvermorny and Mahoutokoro are so talented." The blonde frowned deeply as she set her plate in front of her. "How on earth is Hogwarts going to beat them?"

"Oh, they'll work it out somehow," her companion answered in a rather careless fashion. "Besides, it isn't our problem. We can't participate, so might as well enjoy the food." She lifted up a drumstick as large as her fist. "Bet you I can finish this in a minute."

The Viking girl let out a snort, sour mood gone as she picked up a similar drumstick herself. "Please, I can do it in half of that."

"Oh, is that so?" Merida wagged a challenging eyebrow.

And thus, the gorging began.

* * *

Sounds of the merriment from the Great Hall could be heard for miles around the castle. Chatter of engaging conversations between the vast array of culturally diverse students, clinking of silverware against plates as foods of all kinds were popped into watering mouths, the grand windows glowing warmly with golden light of a thousand candles… It was the finest party from miles around, and only a fool would miss it.

Yes, it would take a complete and utter idiot to miss such fun, and that was the precise description of a certain lanky, disgruntled, sort of toothpick-shaped hero.

Hiccup sighed in frustration as he plodded away from yet another seemingly empty clearing in the Forbidden Forest. Yet another section of his makeshift, hastily copied version of Kristoff Bjorgman's map had been crossed out with a large, charcoal 'X.'

"Argh! The Gods hate me," the gangly boy groaned. "Most kids get recognition by acing O.W.L.'s or shooting hoops at Quidditch. But _no,_ not me! Oh, no, I skip out on the coolest party of the year so I can find a dragon that might not even exist!"

Yes, Hiccup himself knew that what he was doing was beyond stupid and reckless, traipsing all over the Forbidden Forest after dark. This wasn't exactly like Raven Point forest back on Berk. Although that forest was enchanted much like most of the craggy island, its inhabitants were more of 'let's stock-up on nuts for the winter' variety when dragons weren't infesting it. Even when the latter occurred, it was still pretty safe, because there was a regular squad of older Vikings that patrolled Raven Point, clearing out any dangerous creatures on site. Gobber was a frequent volunteer for that patrol, but Hiccup suspected it wasn't to guard against dragons as much as to find the ever elusive troll that apparently stole all of his left socks.

The point was that Raven Point forest was a place that you'd want to keep your guard up in. The Forbidden Forest was a place that you went to when you've generally given up on living all together, and are just _this_ close to going on a pilgrimage to the North Pole to let the ice eat your fingers and a walrus eat your kidneys.

Only an idiot would willingly wander about in it.

But he was an idiot with dreams of being recognized by both his disappointed father and his dream girl who often pretended that he didn't even exist at all, so what could he do? If finding a dragon would redeem himself in their eyes, then he'd muster up what little courage he had and do exactly that.

Though truth be told, the young Viking heir was starting to wonder at this point whether or not Kristoff's map was at all accurate. Thus far, he had only the dubious privilege of stepping right into a patch of sporadic Bouncing Bulbs – inaccurately dubbed harmless Star Grass, _thanks for nothing._ If it weren't for the fact that he'd have to admit that he had been snooping through the third year student's things, Hiccup would march straight up to Kristoff Bjorgman this very minute and give him a thorough shake.

"He better be flunking Herbology. That's the only way I'll forgive him for this," the scrawny Viking muttered irritably, wiggling his way in between some large, tightly-wound tree trunks. "I mean, seriously! Who else would be dumb enough to—?"

He was cut off by something shifting in the bushes, dead ahead.

In a flash, Hiccup dived behind one of the large trees, slapping a palm against his mouth lest a whimper escaped it. Whatever that was sounded close. And big. Very, very big.

The Viking gulped, jamming the hastily copied map back into his pocket and yanking out his wand. What was out there right now? The dragon, or… something else? Something worse?

It took everything Hiccup had to peek out from behind his hiding place. From what he could see, nothing appeared out of order, but even so, he didn't dare drop his guard. In the magical world, any type of creature could be treacherous if it thought it was in danger or if its territory was intruded. Just because it might not be the object of his hunt didn't mean it wasn't a threat.

After a few moments of intense staring, the Hufflepuff slowly emerged from his hiding place. With his wand still in hand, he ventured carefully forward. Part of him would much rather speed off in the opposite direction, but on the off-hand chance that it _had_ been the dragon there, there might be some trace of it. He was quite certain he'd been wandering around in circles for a while now with his stupid map. Any sort of clue he might find would be a welcome one.

With trembling fingers, Hiccup pulled back a thick cluster of leaves and glanced down. A happy grin spread its way across his lips. Yes, something had been there all right. Those tracks were far too big to belong to any unicorn or centaur. He was definitely on the right track.

But then another thought came to him, and with it, Hiccup's smile was wiped away. Yes, there were tracks here – fresh tracks too – but where was their owner?

" _Lumos,"_ he quietly muttered.

The end of his wand was instantly illuminated, and he brought the light down close to the ground so he could better see the tracks. They were all a little close together, so he couldn't quite distinguish whether or not the tracks in the dirt were dragon prints or not, but they did leave a clear trail leading off further into the forest.

Hiccup's grin quickly returned to his face. Excellent. He had a solid lead. This was going even better than he'd originally planned, and he followed the trail without a second thought.

On and on he pressed into the forest, the leafy overhangs only becoming thicker and denser as he wandered deeper. As he followed the trail of prints, Hiccup soon realized that he was at the edge of the boundary line of his makeshift map. The teen came to an immediate halt. This was the spot where the third year had allegedly seen the dragon, if it indeed was a dragon.

Thrills of excitement rammed against the Viking boy's chest, but unease also slithered through his veins.

It was one thing to wander around in the Forbidden Forest while following some form of guidance at the time, such as with Kristoff's Bjorgman's roughly sketched map. It was a whole other deal to continue this little adventure when he didn't know what danger lay ahead.

Maybe it would be better if he came back tomorrow. At least he could return here in daylight, which was probably a million times safer. Yeah, he should turn around right now and—

His musings were cut short when the toe of his shoe accidentally kicked a small pebble into the shadows, against some oversized boulders ahead. A split second later, his hands slammed over his ears to block out the deafening, feral shriek.

An explosion of purple fire erupted in front of his eyes, and he instinctively dove to the ground. Flames licked around him. The grass was replaced with cinders. The boy barely had time to sit up again before a second deafening roar reverberated through the air. There wasn't even time for the terror in his brain to flood his senses, because it was then that the creature leapt out from behind the gigantic stones and shot up. It ignored the thick branches on the trees that scraped its scaly hide, taking off into the sky, disappearing into the dark.

Hiccup could have sworn his heart had stopped beating. It didn't matter that he hadn't gotten the best look at the beast, because he already knew what it was. It had been a dragon, and not just any dragon. No, it was the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself.

A _Night Fury._

The one dragon all wizards feared above all others. No one really knew what it looked like, because no one had ever lived long enough to tell the tale.

That meant his chances of surviving this ordeal had shrunken considerably.

Despite the terror ebbing its way through his body, there was also another emotion coursing through Hiccup now after seeing the flying reptile – excitement. It was sort of bizarre, but as far as he knew, no one had ever seen a Night Fury up close, let alone kill one. Perhaps the gods had decided to take pity on him after all. Perhaps today would be the day that Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III would prove that he was no squib. Heck, the Sorting Hat might even declare that he had always been meant for Gryffindor after all!

The Viking boy was off like a shot through the thicket of trees, one eye keeping track of the path, and the other was trained right at the ceiling of leaves directly overhead. His eyes moved between the brief gaps in the green foliage, not daring to tear his gaze away from the flying reptile, despite the difficulty of keeping up. Should he look away for even a second, he was positive he'd never be able to spot it again.

On and on Hiccup ran, not stopping for even an instant. Low hanging branches scratched his face and arms as he tore wildly through the trees and bushes, but still, he kept going. Nothing was going to stop him from bringing down that dragon. Nothing!

Slowing slightly when approaching the foot of a steep hill, his left foot was snagged by the knotted roots of a large English Oak tree. He yelped as he tripped, starting off a series of 'oophfs' and 'arghkks' as he started tumbling down the grassy knoll. His was fall was broken when he felt his body whack into something smooth and surprisingly soft. However, now he found some strange slime clinging to his black and yellow Hufflepuff robes like glue. Groaning in frustration and disgust, Hiccup hurried back to his feet again, trying to shake off the bizarre goop that had latched onto him. He felt around in the darkness for the wand he had dropped, gagging slightly at the icky sensation along his palms – what was this, some kind of gelatinous mud?

He found the stick at last – it wasn't broken, thank the gods, though it was very sticky and weird right now. With his overall bad luck, accidentally breaking his own wand was a real possibility.

Wait, no, he shouldn't even let himself think that. Then it really might happen for real. Happy thoughts, Hiccup. Think happy thoughts.

Cringing, the teen managed to free himself from the sticky puddle. He tried to wipe away the worst of the gunk off, but that only succeeded in making himself feel even more gross. What on earth were those breakable, gooey rocks, and what were they doing out here in the Forbidden Forest? Well, anything was possible in the Wizarding world.

Another shrill shriek echoed through the air, and Hiccup's attention snapped back to the matter at hand. He was in uncharted territory now, but wherever he was, he was grateful that this particular patch of the forest had fewer trees. There was a nice, open patch in the leaves overheard, granting him to have a narrow, but clear view of the night sky.

The gangly boy kept his wand at the ready, bright green eyes desperately searching the black sky.

"C'mon," he muttered out loud. "Give me something to shoot at… Give me something to shoot at…"

There was a brief pause, and then, quite miraculously, he spied a black shape blocking out the twinkling white stars. It was only a quick, half-second view, because just as soon as he saw it, the dragon let out another purple plasma blast which exploded in midair, nearly concealing itself once again in the shadows. But even so, that fleeting glimpse was all Hiccup needed.

" _Petrificus Totalus!"_ he shouted, pointing his wand.

There was a flash of white light, and then Hiccup heard a great howl in the air, followed swiftly by the great black outline falling from the sky. Somewhere, further in the forest, a crash and thud was heard.

For the longest time, Hiccup didn't move. He simply stared, wide-eyed and jaw dropped, at the far-off horizon line where the Night Fury had crashed.

His Full Body-Bind Curse had worked.

He usually sucked when it came to performing spells in Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks, but this time, his spell had worked.

"I hit it…" he murmured in disbelief, still trying to comprehend what he'd done. Then he pumped a fist in the air and whooped for joy. "Yes, I hit it!"

He couldn't stop himself from celebrating his success, and even if he was capable of controlling himself, he wouldn't have. He, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, had finally proved himself as a Viking-Wizard. He had shot a dragon right out of the sky. And not just any dragon, but one of the most deadly, rarest dragons known to wizard-kind! He'd grounded a Night Fury! A _Night Fury!_ He couldn't wait until the rest of the kids from Berk heard about this! Oh, Snotlout's expression would be priceless, and Astrid? Maybe she'd actually start noticing him now.

"Oh, wow! If only someone could have seen this…!" the Hufflepuff boy murmured wistfully to himself.

A split second after he had uttered these words, he wished he hadn't.

Somewhere behind him in the shrubbery, he could hear something scurrying. It wasn't a dragon, Hiccup was certain of that, because not only could he hear multiple legs moving about, the steps were too light, too quick for any dragon to make.

Hiccup gulped, forcing himself to turn around.

His face instantly turned white.

Standing behind him was a gigantic acromantula. Its huge, disgusting pincers were clicking together menacingly as it appraised him with six out of its eight, beady black eyes. The other two were locked onto the gooey mess that Hiccup had fallen into when he first fell into this particular clearing.

Wait… no. This wasn't just a gunk. It was remnants of the goopy interior of eggs.

Giant spider eggs, to be exact.

 _Oh, for the love of Thor!_

The poor unfortunate teen bolted just as the spider charged.

Hiccup could barely register what he was seeing as he dashed through the forest. Scratches drew themselves on his freckled complexion as he shoved branches out of his way. Bruises painted themselves on his roughened skin as he knocked into tree after tree in his haste to escape. The minor injuries were a nuisance, but compared to an excruciating death by a very angry giant spider, he'd take them any day.

He could hear the monstrous acromantula charging after him, hissing furiously as it stayed on his heels. He didn't dare look back to see just how close or far away from him it was. He just kept running as fast as his legs could carry him.

That being said though, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III was the worst Viking-Wizard to have come from Berk in over three hundred years for reasons not entirely due to being 'almost-but-not-yet-Squib,' for indeed, by Muggle standards he was already pretty pathetic. Stamina was no friend of his, and a couple minutes of running was all it took to get him winded. The auburn-haired boy ducked behind the cover of a particularly large, sturdy oak tree as he struggled to regain his breath. Leaning up against the tree bark with one of his hands, he wondered to himself between pants _why, oh, why_ did these always happen to him? Why?! All he wanted was to take down a dragon so he could prove himself to everyone. He never meant to crush those damn spider eggs. For the umpteenth time, why were the gods punishing him?!

He had no time to dwell on this though, because judging by how loud all those rustling leaves were becoming, the acromantula was only a few feet away.

Hiccup gulped, tightening his grasp on his feeble wand. He might not be the great Viking his father had always wanted, or even competent enough a wizard, but there was no way he was letting that spider eat him alive without putting up some form of a fight!

He muttered a super-fast prayer to Odin to spare his life, leapt out to face certain death, when a sharp voice cut through the air.

" _Arania Exumai!"_

There was a flash of blinding blue light, and the spider was blasted at least twenty feet backward. Hiccup gaped in shock as the monstrous acromantula lifted its rounded abdomen from the ground, twiddled its pincers menacingly at him one last time, then abruptly spun around and fled back under the cover of the trees.

The teenager stood there, dumbfounded. The spider was gone. He was alive. He was still alive after nearly being eaten by a gigantic spider… but how? Who cast that spell and saved him?

"Hiccup!"

Oh, crap. He wish he didn't know that voice, but he did.

Wincing in the manner of one who had been slapped, Hiccup forced himself to turn around. Shuffling his way toward him from behind a cluster of thick, leafy bushes was none other than Gobber. Sitting upon his wooden stump was a clever little contraption that held the part-time blacksmith's wand. This was what the limping fellow was using his good hand to remove now, replacing it with his regular hook now that the danger had passed. But it was not the glinted point of the hook that caught the fourteen-year-old's eye, but the furious expression on his mentor's face.

Hiccup gulped. On Berk, he might be the blacksmith's apprentice, but here he was a student, and Gobber a professor. A professor who had caught a student doing something explicitly forbidden by the Headmaster.

This would not end well.

"Uh… hey, Gobber," Hiccup chuckled nervously, even sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. "What… What are you doing all the way out here?"

The enchanted blacksmith only raised one of his blonde, bushy eyebrows.

He hastily amended his approach. "I shot a Night Fury. Out there." He gestured towards the dark of the forest.

"Yes, and I'm a Muggle tight-rope ballerina," the elder Viking deadpanned.

"I'm being serious, Gobber," the boy insisted as earnestly as one could in a nasally voice. "We just need a search party and—"

"And what? Run around in circles? Fall into another nest of giant spiders?" The hook-handed man let out a sigh. "C'mon, lad. You're in enough trouble as it is."

Without warning, his hook had latched onto the back of the Hufflepuff's boy's robe, lifting him clean off the ground. He ignored the boy's indignant protests as he carried him through the forest, like a fish hanging from the line.

"You deserve every inch of punishment you get," the gruff fellow rebuked. "Skipping out during the Welcome Feast. Just outright rude, mind you. Sneakin' off to the Forbidden Forest, just like you did at Raven Point—"

"Raven Point," the lad retorted, his struggling ceased, "is not forbidden. And we need to turn back now! Who knows what could happen if—"

"Raven Point," Gobber interjected, ignoring the young miscreant's demands, "is forbidden to _you_ after all that crazy you pulled – and we know just how much crazy that's been, eh?"

"But—"

"The Forbidden Forest is forbidden. I mean, _it's in the name and every—"_ The man rubbed his forehead. "Look, laddie, I know you got heart, but, by Odin's shiny eyepatch could you just try not to be—" he made a vague gesture.

Hiccup creased his brow. "Be what?"

"Like, well, you know—" Gobber repeated the intelligible gesture.

The boy only appeared more confused.

Sighing, the Viking dropped the lad back to his feet. He then lifted hook and hand from Hiccup's head, then lowered it to the boy's feet. "All this."

Hiccup blinked.

"Just stop being all—" Gobber performed the action more slowly, as if that would help _"—this."_

"You just gestured to all of me," the boy pointed out dryly.

"Exactly!" A wide smile formed under the dirty yellow moustache. "Just stop being all of you."

Hiccup stared at him, not sure exactly how to respond.

"Now, come on. We'd best get back," Gobber waved him forward, giving him a wide berth as he noted the gunk that decorated his robes. "I don't much fancy being acromantula grub – not that I can't fight off those beasties, wand or no wand."

Hiccup rolled his eyes, but still trudged along after the heavyset man as he led the way back to school. While Gobber's immediate dismissal of his claim was jarring, perhaps it was in part his own fault. His reputation of Berk's most useless Viking was not exactly unfounded, and he had to admit much of his – _ahem_ – antics back home no doubt colored the old blacksmith's view of him. Still, it was disappointing that he was so close, and yet so far from the very object that could change everything.

He would have to find a way to get back out here soon. After all, he knew his sight hadn't tricked him. He had seen the shadow fall from the sky. He knew that the Night Fury was out there, and it was waiting for him. His destiny. His identity. So let Gobber believe what he wanted – it'd add to the shock when it turned out that he was right.

"Are we heading back to the feast then?" the boy asked, his stomach growling a bit from skipping dinner.

His mentor let out a dark chuckle. "Hardly. It'd be over by now."

"Ah." He was a little disappointed, but he had no regrets on how he chose to spend the night. His rumbling tummy didn't agree, though.

"Yeah, well," Gobber's tone was unsympathetic, "consider that empty stomach of yours the first half of your punishment."

His ears perked up in alarm.

"Hope you like stables. You're gonna be cleaning them for a while"

* * *

"So, what do you think of all the visitors, Em?"

"I'm not sure... The Mahoutokoro kids all wear those different color robes, but they seem nice. And I thought the whole thing they did with using magic to make that electric ball sing our school song was so cool! But I don't know about the Ilvermorny students."

"You don't like them?"

"It's not that, it's just… they seem rather scary. All that fighting stuff they did when they first entered the Great Hall? What if… What if they tried to do that to you, or me?"

"Well don't worry about a thing. You've got your big brother right here, and if those Americans do anything that makes you uncomfortable, you can bet I'll be there to show them what happens when they mess with my little sister! I'll always protect you, Emmy."

 _Whack!_

A certain dark-haired boy dramatically groaned from his sister's semi-painful punch to his gut. It was after dinner now and the feast had long since ended, but once again, Jack was walking Emma back up to Gryffindor Tower. He'd been doing this every day after dinnertime in fact. Other than chance meetings in between classes, it's the one time of day that they got spend time together.

"Ow!" Jack loved his sister, so he didn't mind this extra trip up to the seventh floor, but he couldn't deny that the experience would be much more pleasant if Emma learned to take a joke. Seriously, would it kill her not to bruise him every time? "Okay, you've gotta stop doing that, Emma. It's getting old really fast."

Emma narrowed her eyes. "Stop calling me that awful nickname and maybe I will."

"Oh, come on! 'Emmy' is a cute, sweet nickname. It's not like I'm calling you something insulting. So, what's the big deal?"

"The _big deal_ Jack is that you don't respect the fact that I hate being treated like a five-year-old!"

"Well, I happened to like you when you were five, Emma. Whatever happened to that sweet little girl, hmm? She used to toddle around and chase after me on those pudgy legs of hers all over the farm. 'Jackie! Jackie!'" the teenager called out, imitating his sister's high-pitched voice as he bounced about in place just like Emma used to do when she was little. 'Uppie! Uppie! I want uppie!'"

Emma's face was as scarlet as her Gryffindor robes. She started frantically looking around from left to right. Assured that no one was around to have witnessed that embarrassing spectacle, the eleven-year-old's head snapped back around to face her brother. "You! You ever do _that_ again, and I'll make you regret it!"

Jack laughed. "Sure, you will, Em. Sure, you will…"

"I'm serious!"

"And just what would be your great revenge scheme, huh? What could you possibly do to me?"

There was a brief paused as Emma considered this, but then, to Jack's complete surprise, she sneakily smirked. "I'll convince everyone you know here to start calling you _Jackson Overland Frost._ The full thing."

The cocky teen's grin was instantly wiped away. "You wouldn't."

"Try me."

The dark-haired boy stared flabbergasted at his kid sister. After the longest pause imaginable, Jack finally looked away from Emma, his steps down the hall turned somewhat into pouting stomps instead. He folded his arms and sulked.

Emma on the other hand appeared quite pleased with her choice of play. "Aww," she drawled in a high-pitched voice, pulling a long face, "my poor Jacky-wacky pulling a tempy-trum?"

"'A tempy-trum?'" he repeated critically.

"It's like a cross between a tantrum and a temper."

"Seriously?"

"Well, I'm sorry. Not all of us are proficient in speaking idiot."

"Excuse me, young lady, I would have you know that I might be the smartest prankster that this school as ever—"

"Good evening, Miss Fat Lady," said Emma abruptly to the portrait on the wall. This interruption earned her a miffed expression from her older brother. Well, serves his little obnoxiousness right. "How are you today?"

The corners of the Fat Lady's oil painted lips turned upwards into a kind smile. "I'm quite well, thank you, Little One. Back once again with the Slytherin brother, I see."

Scowling once at Emma, Jack's sour mien morphed into mock delight. "You bet I am, good madam, and I'm still waiting for a peek at the legendary Gryffindor Tower. Think you could, you know, grant me a little peek? Just for a minute?"

The Fat Lady fixed him with a knowing look, then angled her head to Emma. "The password?"

The boy turned expectantly to the small girl at his side. "Go on, Em. Say the password."

"Leave and I will."

Jack drew a mock look of disbelief. "Really? You're going to deny your only brother an up close look at your common room? How did I ever end up with such a cruel little sister?"

"Your theatrics aren't nearly as funny as you think they are Jack." Emma groaned and rolled her eyes at the display. "I'm not like some people who'd let anyone into their common rooms whenever they please."

"Oh?" Jack suddenly had a somber feeling that he might know what she might be alluding to.

"Are you two quite done?" the Fat Lady interjected, making both of the Overland's turn back to her. "I may be two-dimensional and completely made of dried oil, but that doesn't mean I don't have other things to do."

"Oh, right." At least Emma had the decency to look guilty. "Sorry about that."

Jack sighed and affectionately ruffled her straight brown hair. "Alright, if that's how you're gonna be. I'll see you tomorrow, all right?"

"'Kay." She battered his hand away.

"Sleep tight, then… _Emmy."_

And then as fast as a gust of wind, he dashed back down the hall in the direction of the grand staircase, chuckling all the while. Screams of indignation that erupted from Emma's mouth echoed down the hall, and he only chuckled more shamelessly. He'd pay dearly for it tomorrow, but it was totally worth it.

Jack started making his way down the marble staircase, only to curse out loud when the stairs suddenly shifted its course, changing from the landing with a nearby hidden passageway to the landing near the main staircase. The moving staircases at Hogwarts had fascinated him when he was a first year. They never stayed in one place for more than ten minutes at a time. But now, as an exhausted fourth year who was quite eager to get back to his common room after a long, tiring day of school, their ever-shifting direction was a major annoyance. Now he'd have to go all the way down to the Entrance Hall via the stairs rather than take the usual shortcut. If Emma were here, she'd say it'd serve him right.

He made his way to the next floor, sour thoughts clouding his mind. He was so preoccupied, that he nearly rammed straight into someone hurrying up the stairs at that exact same moment. Of course, he wasn't the only one at fault, for said other person also wasn't paying attention to her surroundings. Just a few seconds before the deadly 'smack!', she looked up, yelped, and scampered several steps back down the stairs to put some distance between them.

Jack blinked as the girl's features came into focus. "Oh, hey. We meet again."

The elusive Muggle-born princess of Slytherin House stared at him with wide eyes from her place a few steps down the stairs.

"We've never introduced ourselves before, right?" Getting over his momentary surprise first, Jack smiled kindly at the platinum blonde-haired girl. "I'm Jack. Jack Frost."

He stuck out his hand to the blonde girl, but she did not take it. If anything, she seemed repulsed by it. A flash of fear had appeared in her eyes. Jack was puzzled by her reaction, but he had no time to comment on it, for as quickly as the fear had come, it disappeared again. Elsa's expression changed to that of strict regality befitting her station.

He still had his hand outstretched to her, but she chose to disregard it and instead dipped down into a polite curtsy.

"Princess Elsa of Arendelle. It's lovely to meet you. Have a good evening."

Jack remained befuddled as the girl carefully wove her way past him, almost sprinting all the way up to the seventh floor. There was no pause in her gait, and soon she had disappeared from sight.

Curiosity overcame Jack as he watched Elsa go. Previous plans to return to the common room were promptly discarded as he stealthily trailed after her. He stuck to the shadows, following her down the torch-lit corridor with such stealth that it deeply pleased the prankster within him. He couldn't imagine why she would be here, since Anna never came back to the Gryffindor common room until curfew was nearly over. No, she was more likely to turn up at the Slytherin common room herself, waiting for her sister.

Perhaps this was not yet known to the elder princess of Arendelle? But she should know it if she had been speaking to her sister enough, so that didn't make sense either. Nonetheless, like the good Samaritan that Slytherins rarely were, Jack decided to pick up the pace a little. Perhaps he could save the girl a trip.

That was, until she spun in the completely opposite direction, away from the corridor leading to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

If not to the Gryffindor rooms, then where was Elsa off to this late at night?

The platinum blonde made a sudden turn around the next corner, and Jack hung back a second to ensure that she wouldn't spot him before stepping out around the bend himself. To Jack's surprise, Elsa wasn't hurrying down this corridor as she had been the rest of the way here.

Instead, she seemed to be pacing back and forth down the stone-paved hall in front of a rather large tapestry. Her actions completely befuddled her male Slytherin housemate, but it wasn't as if he could ask – not without revealing himself at least. At one point, when her gaze almost just aligned with his position, he leapt behind the safety of the cornered wall, even moving back a few additional paces so that his shadow wouldn't show.

For a little while, Jack simply crouched there as he puzzled over what Elsa could be doing. Why was she pacing like that? Why in front of that particular tapestry?

He poked his head out to check on the Muggle-born princess, but to Jack's astonishment, she had completely vanished without a trace.

But how? He'd only looked away for a few seconds. Even if she had seemingly decided to continue on down the hall, he would have seen her walking further down the corridor. But she was just gone. Disappeared, in the blink of an eye.

Jack had no idea what to make of this. Though a Slytherin like him, Elsa was still undoubtedly the brightest witch of their year. She might be a loner and as far as he knew didn't have any friends, but Jack knew that she always got the highest marks out of any other fellow fourth years whenever homework was turned in or when tests were graded. Had she maybe sensed him following her and cast some sort of invisibility charm on herself? If that was the case, she was definitely some sort of magical prodigy at spell casting.

But wait… weren't invisibility cloaks the only way for people to become completely invisible to the eye? Sure, there were a couple spells out there that made people see-through, but it was still possible to vaguely make out a person's body outline if one looked carefully enough. That wasn't the case here. There was no trace whatsoever of Princess Elsa of Arendelle.

The trickster Slytherin boy pondered there a little while longer, but when it became evident that she would not appear again, he sighed and headed back down the moving staircase. He'd wonder about the mystery of the Crown Princess of Arendelle another time. It was late, and he had to get back to his common room… at least for now, that is.

As he made his way back to the dungeons, he mused over the odds of him being caught sneaking a little snack from the kitchens. The house elves working down there might even be willing to do him a small favor by baking and delivering a tasty blueberry muffin to the Gryffindor common room tomorrow morning. Emma would love waking up to such a nice surprise. She loved blueberry muffins.

Upon reaching the dungeons and mumbling out the password to the stone wall entryway, Jack shuffled his way into the Slytherin common room.

"—can't believe those Mahoutokoro students did that—"

"—electricity, such a Muggle concept—"

"—disgraceful, that what they are. They're disgracing wizard-kind. Thank Merlin that the Ministry would never let such ideas—"

There weren't many people hanging around in the common room tonight, but there were enough to make the remainder in the green and silver room akin to a gossiping nest of snakes. The primary subject of tonight of course was the 'shocking, atrocious, downright immoral' display from the visiting students from Japan. Jack personally thought that the presentation the Mahoutokoro students did by mixing electricity and magic together was ingenious, but his opinion didn't matter clearly, so he didn't bother to make it known.

If nothing else, the new scandal brought some attention off the little Gryffindor who had once again opted to haunt the Slytherin halls. This time, she was sitting with Hans in front of the fireplace instead of being situated at a study table. The redheaded prince was still intent in his studies, gaze fixed on one of his many textbooks. He was barely listening to the girl who shared the couch with him, but Anna didn't seem to mind, and took his 'hmms' and brief nods as satisfactory.

Jack groaned. It wasn't that he didn't like the girl, but she had no place in the Slytherin Common Room, or Slytherin _anything._ Even though her excuse was always to find her sister, it was obvious that Anna enjoyed Hans' company too in manner that was rapidly tilting towards an uncomfortable zone. She was too young, and too vulnerable to the biting spite that the members of this house would be too willing to provide. As for Hans, he shouldn't be encouraging this either. The prince should have alerted her of the dangers, and indeed, should have put a stop to the blossoming infatuation for itself. But Hans had been pretty self-absorbed these days, and perhaps the plight of the young Gryffindor had not occurred to him.

Where was the elder princess of Arendelle when one needed her?

"Evening, Hans, Anna," he said, flopping down on the sofa next to them as he did so.

His action caused both redheads to bounce a bit in their seats. Anna giggled and smiled cheerfully to him, but Hans dropped his book in surprise. Upon losing his place in the textbook, he threw the dark-haired boy a bitter scowl.

"Was that really necessary?" the prince asked, scooping his copy of _A History of Magic_ off the carpet. He hastily flipped through its pages, trying to find where he'd been at before.

Jack merely flashed his royal buddy a jaunty wink. "Of course it was, Hansy. How else should I have sat down?"

"By sitting down calmly. Like any other normal person."

"Aw, but that way's so _boring!_ No fun at all!"

Hans rolled his eyes as Anna giggled again. "Hi, Jack! Good to see you again!"

"Yeah, you too, Anna. Did you enjoy the feast?"

"I sure did! The American students look really tough, what with all those fighting moves they did back in the Great Hall. Very tough!" Her eyes were as wide as saucers, and she gestured wildly. "And the students from Japan? I've never seen _anything_ like that before. That was so, so cool! The feast afterwards was pretty good, too. I had so many delicious sandwiches, and I stuffed myself with chocolate for dessert. The other Gryffindors actually had to take the chocolate tray away from me before I ate it all."

Jack chuckled at her long ramble. "You must really love chocolate."

"Uh-huh! I wish I could live on chocolate!"

"Don't we all?" the Frost boy asked. "Emmy would eat nothing but muffins for the rest of her life in a heartbeat if she could."

Anna laughed again. She was prepared to comment on that statement, asking Jack what types of muffins his sister liked, but then a handful of words from another conversation caught their ears.

"Embarrassment's, that's what those Mahoutokoro's are. Embarrassment's to our kind."

"Of course they are! What's wrong with that headmaster of theirs? He's teaching kids to mix our world with the filthy Muggle world!"

"Still, you two can't deny that those Japanese girls looked good. They have a certain… how should I say… _spark_ to them."

"Quit it with the lame puns, Rider."

"Yeah, shut it."

Jack and Anna both turned. Sitting in some of the arm chairs in the far corner of the common room were the cruel Stabbington brother's and the cocky Flynn Rider. The older red-haired twins were mostly just throwing shade left, right, center about the Japanese students' presentation like the rest of the Slytherins in the common room. Flynn Rider himself however was no doubt just there to see if he could insult the duo without them realizing, as he often did. But this time, his attention appeared to have been split between prodding his two cronies and reading a curious sheet of parchment.

Truth be told, Jack didn't think Flynn Rider wasn't all that bad of a guy, but that didn't mean that he was good either. He flirted shamelessly with every mildly attractive girl that passed his way, but he wasn't the type to demean them – unless they were on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, of course. He was generally polite and cheery to anyone he met, but he still hung out excessively with the brutish Ron and Jon Stabbington, who were the polar opposites of polite and cheery. Very little about Flynn Rider made sense, which was what made him a mystery. The problem with mysteries was that one could never really tell what they were up to.

"You guys are a really horrid bunch, aren't you?"

The Muggle-born boy blinked, and glanced back down at Anna. She was full out scowling at the trio, utterly disgusted by what she had heard.

"Ignore them, Anna," Hans mumbled, nose still firmly in his textbook. "They're not worth it."

Jack nodded. "Yeah, listen to Carrot-top here. They're just being jerks."

The girl wasn't appeased. "Well then, it seems like someone ought to teach them some manners!"

Jack tensed at that. That didn't sound good. If Anna was possibly planning to mouth out to two of the biggest blood purists in Slytherin house, that wouldn't end well. For her, for him… he had to get her out of the dungeons. And fast.

"Geez, look at the time!" he said in a forcefully cheerful voice. "You better get back to Gryffindor Tower, Anna. I'll walk you out."

He tried to gently tug the little princess to her feet so he could steer her to the door, but Anna refused to budge from her seat beside Hans.

"What are you talking about, Jack? It's not that late. I still have some time before curfew starts. Hey, you two!" Anna yelled at the Stabbington's, pointing a stubby little finger at them. "What's your problem with Maho- Maho—" fumbling slightly "—that Japanese school? _Hmm?_ Their presentation with electricity was awesome! I don't see either of you doing anything half as remarkable as them!"

Jack blanched in horror. Even Hans's head snapped up from his textbook to stare at her. Every Slytherin in the common room had similar expressions on their faces. All eyes were trained on the Gryffindor. Then, one by one, their expressions morphed into scowls, and some had begun hissing sharply at one another.

Anna was puzzled by this response, but before she could say anything, the Stabbingtons exchanged looks, before making their way towards her. The little princess shuddered under their unkind gazes, instinctively scooting closer to Hans and Jack on the sofa. Hans immediately snapped his book shut and reached for his wand. Jack automatically stood up and shielded Anna behind him as best as he could from the twins' view. This could get ugly fast.

"Well, well, well, seems like the little cub believes she's a full grown lion," remarked Ron, a cruel glint in his eyes as he peered around the older boy for the girl. "She thinks she can hold her own against us vipers."

Anna huffed indignantly at that. "Well, of course I can! You think you can get away with—"

"Yes, yes, we all know you and your idiot brother think you're king cobras here in Slytherin," the Overland Frost boy said quickly, rolling his eyes. "You think you have the venom to back up your snake bites. Yet, no one's ever seen you bite all that hard now, have they? Your poisons wouldn't even give someone an upset stomach."

The twins scowled, and Jack took that as his chance to abruptly seize hold of Anna's wrist and roughly pull her off the couch.

"Ow! Jack—!"

"We're leaving. _Now."_

Anna was alarmed, but Jack didn't give her the chance to protest. He just dragged her behind him as he trudged past his fellow Slytherins to the common room exit. He gripped his staff tightly in his other hand, just in case.

"Looking out for the lost little lion cub, Frosty? Not very Slytherin of you, is it?"

Snickers from all the onlookers echoed throughout the room. Jack's ears burned in anger. He wanted more than anything to just use his staff and cast _levicorpus_ on them both, let the two jerks see what it felt like to be publicly humiliated when they were both hanging upside down in the air by their ankles, but he couldn't do that right now. Not with little Anna now clinging to his wrist and looking at him with such big, confused eyes.

"Well, being too Slytherin has a way of making one too snake-like," he shot back, fearlessly and with no hesitation whatsoever. "Poisonous, cold, and a molting-skin-sort-of ugly."

Flynn was the only one in the room to snort in amusement. Others just gave the Muggle-born boy cold looks of disapproval. The Stabbingtons both went red with fury.

"I'd watch your tongue if I were you, Frost," snarled Ron Stabbington, the brother with a small scar near his chin. "You never know what might happen."

"Go ahead. Do your worst." Jack merely smirked in return. "But mess with me, Anna, or my sister, and you might wake up one day only to discover your mattresses have mysteriously moved overnight to be floating out in the middle of the Black Lake. Can't imagine you two acting all that tough when you're splashing back to shore in your underpants."

This time, Jack's remark brought forth a few snickers from other Slytherins, who must have found the image entertaining. Even Anna bit her lower lip to keep from giggling too loudly.

The Stabbington's were anything but amused though. "One of these days, Frost, you're gonna regret being such a cocky little shit!" snapped the other twin, Jon. Unlike Ron, he had no scars on his face, but instead a black eyepatch covered his left eye, and the one exposed eye was glaring daggers at Jack.

Jack's smirk only grew in size until it was that of a conceited grin. "Keep telling yourselves that. It'll give you morons something to dream about the next time you zone out in class."

He stuck on his tongue condescendingly at the enraged red-haired twins and turned to leave. He'd throw out more insults at them another time. Right now, he had to see his sister's friend safely out.

"Do what you like, Frost," he heard one of the Stabbingtons snarl, "but you two will never be anything more than filthy Mudbloods!"

Jack immediately halted in his tracks, his grips on both his staff and Anna's wrist growing considerably tighter. Out of the corner of his corner of his eye, he noticed Hans throwing him a somewhat sympathetic look. Jack hardly even acknowledged it.

It took all the willpower the fourteen-year-old possessed to suppress his fury, especially when everyone else in the common room started spitting out that foul word with just as much venom.

Aside from Hans, almost every pure-blood and even a fair share of half-bloods in Slytherin had insulted him for his apparently shameful Muggle bloodline more times than he could count. Jack wasn't embarrassed of his parentage in the slightest. He barely remembered anything at all about his father so he didn't count, but Jack loved his mother dearly, and the only person he knew he loved even more than her was Emma. It wasn't his fault his folks were ordinary people. It would have been cool to have grown up in a wizarding family, but if it meant giving up his Muggle mother, Jack would never pick it.

"Yeah, that's right," he countered, making sure not to sound the slightest bit ashamed of himself as he did so. "And so what if we are? At least we don't look like Azkaban escapees."

Anna was glancing back and forth between him and the cruel Stabbington twins in obvious confusion. She had no idea what was going on, as no one had ever taken the time to explain to her the concept of blood purity in the Wizarding world, let alone what Azkaban was. But Jack couldn't worry about that right now. Not when that last comment seemed to infuriate the two assholes even more.

"You calling us common crooks, Frost?!" growled Ron.

Jack only smirked triumphantly. "Well, with your ugly faces and oh-so-pleasant personalities, I think dementors would make themselves sick with your souls. They'd all be gagging when they try giving you both a few good kisses."

"Prick!" roared Jon.

"They'd rather snog Mudblood trash than us any day!" shouted Ron.

"Well, I'm a pretty good snogger!" Jack yelled back. Well, he hasn't technically tried, but, you know, he'd probably do it just fine.

Flynn Rider, still on the sidelines, just appeared highly amused.

"Rider, our wands!" demanded Jon. The two brothers both thrusted out their hands back at him.

The brunette fellow sighed dramatically as he removed the wands from his sleeves and handed them over. Immediately after they took them, he threw himself back against his armchair and continued studying his parchment, nonchalant about the eminent battle.

As the bullies pointed their wands directly at their foe, Jack kept his staff at the ready. He wasn't one to back down from a fight. Especially not when he was protecting someone.

Everyone in the common room watched eagerly at the showdown about to happen. A few kids even had the gall to cheer the Stabbington brothers on. It was always fun for to watch a fellow Slytherin teach a filthy Muggle-born their place.

"Say your prayers, Mudblood!"

"Any last words, Frost?!"

Jack smirked, and then mockingly tapped his ear as though he hadn't heard them. "Sorry, what was that? I don't speak idiot."

The Stabbington's faces both turned as red as their hair, and with two furious yells, they both shouted out the names of their intended spells.

" _Incendio!"_

" _Locomotor Mortis!"_

Jack had raised his staff to shout out a counter-curse, but his words were muffled by two ear-splitting booms. The next thing he knew, Ron Stabbington was screaming at the top of his lungs as he fumbled with his wand to stop the fire from continuing to pour out of it and lighting his pants up. Jon Stabbington had dropped his wand and was hopping around in place in a desperate effort to separate his legs from his own Leg-Locker Curse.

Jack, Anna, and just about every other person in the common started roaring with laughter. For some bizarre reason, it appeared as though the Stabbington twins' spells had backfired on them instead of hitting Jack.

"Merlin's beard! Put it out! Put it out!" Ron screamed, now trying to beat out the fire with the hem of his robes.

"Rider! Do something!" Jon snapped. He barely managed to shout this before he toppled face-first on the ground.

But Flynn was in no rush to help his so-called friends. He had fallen off his chair and was now rolling on the floor from how hard he was laughing.

"Oh… Oh, wow…! _Wow!"_ he managed to choke out as tears began to flow down his face. "You… You dorks didn't check to see if… I mixed up your wands…? Wow!"

" _You did this intentionally?!"_

"N-No! I just… I just wasn't looking when I passed them to you guys!" Flynn gasped. He tried to find the strength to stop laughing and stand up to help them, but another round of fresh laughter escaped his lips, and seconds later, he had tripped over himself and fell a second time. When he fell this time though, the parchment he'd been reading prior to all this slipped out of his hand, and floated a little too close to the fire spreading across the elder twins' pants. It caught ablaze within seconds before it touched the ground.

Pausing only to stomp his foot down repeatedly on the burning remains of the paper to prevent the whole common room from burning down, Flynn grabbed his wand and then muttered a few choice words to douse out the flames from one brothers' pants and then to undo the curse on the other. Jack would have loved to stay and watch the obvious yelling unfold as the Stabbington's took out their frustrations on their blasé friend, but it was that moment that Hans appeared next to him.

The prince jerked his head in the direction of the exit. "Let's go, before they come to their senses," he urged.

He was right, of course. Better to leave now when those idiots had forgotten about him. Jack motioned for Anna to follow them, and he and Hans led the way out of the basement hangout, to the stone-paved dungeon corridor.

Once they were all safely outside and the wall slid shut behind them, Hans rounded on Jack before the other boy could so much as blink. "I always knew you were reckless, but you really have no sense at all in that head of yours. _What_ were you _thinking?"_

Jack gave his friend a hard look in return. "What, you didn't think I was just going to stand there and take that, did you?"

"That's _exactly_ what you should have done. Pretty much everyone in Slytherin is against you, Jack. Don't give them any reason to hate you more."

"Hey, I didn't start that fight."

"Doesn't matter. Next time just—"

"They'd called us Mudbloods, Hans. They crossed the line."

With that, Hans fell silent. He couldn't think up anything to say that could counter that honest remark.

Anna had no clue what the problem was, and she could no longer stay silent. "What's so bad about that, Jack? What's a Mudblood?"

Jack tensed. He really didn't want to be the one to have to explain the concepts of blood purity to Anna. She was such a sweet girl and still saw the Wizarding world as he once did before he was sorted into Slytherin. Let her stay ignorant of the prejudices for a while. Anyway, it was her sisters' place to teach her those things in the magical world, not his. He'd explained bits and pieces to Emma already, and he didn't look forward to when he revealed the really nasty bits.

"It's a bad word towards people like you and me, Anna. They were insulting us, that's all."

Anna blinked, thoroughly puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Jack sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It's… Look, you should ask your sister about this. She'll explain it to you."

Anna frowned, but shrugged his words. "All right, fine. I'll ask her when she arrives."

She tried to slip around him to tell the seemingly ordinary stone wall the Slytherin password, but Hans immediately held out his arm to stop her.

"Actually, Anna, you should really be heading back up to Gryffindor."

"But why? Curfew doesn't start for at least another hour. I know it'll take forever to climb back upstairs to Gryffindor Tower, but I can wait for a little longer."

She tried to wiggle her way around her crush again, but Hans merely shook his head and stopped her a second time.

"No, you should go back now," he told her firmly. He nodded towards the false stone wall. "Those boys inside? The Stabbingtons? They're probably still mad. You don't want to end up hexed, do you?"

"Oh, no! Definitely not!" she exclaimed, eyes going wide at the thought. There was a brief pause, then her cheeks flushed pink as she smiled shyly up at the upperclassman. "Thank you for looking out for me, Hans. It's really nice of you – b-both of you, I mean—" she quickly corrected herself, nervously chuckling a bit. "—to spend time with me whenever I come down here. You're both been such great friends to me."

Hans' lips turned upwards into a charming smile. "It's no trouble, Anna. No trouble at all."

Jack frowned. He would never have thought he'd need to, but apparently Hans needed a lesson in what it meant to draw boundaries, especially for young, feckless, impressionable kids that were so obviously pining after him.

"You know, you don't have to keep visiting us down here if you want to hang out," the brunette boy said in the friendliest tone he could muster. "If you see us in the halls, you can stop and chat with us. That way you can head up with Emma to Gryffindor after dinner from now on."

Anna frowned at him. "But if I don't keep coming down here, how else am I ever gonna get a chance to see Elsa? What if she comes to the common room when I'm not here? I haven't talked to her since before we got here, you know."

"What?" said Jack, astounded. "You haven't even seen your sister at all since back in London?"

With a sad sigh, Anna nodded, her gaze shifting down towards her feet. "Not even in the Great Hall or in the hallways."

Jack couldn't believe what he was hearing. Once again, the Crown Princess of Arendelle confounded him. Why hasn't she come to find her sister? As an older sibling himself, he was well aware of his duties, and he carried them out pretty willingly, not that he'd ever let Emma know that. There was something very peculiar about Elsa's behavior – and 'peculiar' was just a nicer word for 'irresponsible.'

"Well, if you need anything at all, don't be a stranger," he told her. "I'm more than happy to lend a helping hand if need it."

"Thanks, Jack. I'll be sure to remember that," she told him gratefully. Then, with a shy smile and rosy cheeks, she turned to look up at Hans. "Can I come to you too, Hans? You've been just as kind to me as Jack has, after all."

"Sure, if that's what you want."

"It is. Well, I guess I should get going. See you both later!"

Grinning widely at the teen boys, Anna turned and walked away down the corridor, heading back to the Entrance Hall. Just before she turned the corner though, she glanced back at the older Slytherins she had befriended, and waved before vanishing into the labyrinth of the castle dungeons.

As soon as she was gone, Hans let a deep breath that Jack hadn't even realized his friend had been holding in. "She's a handful, that kid. Nice girl, but a real handful…"

"If you don't like her, you don't have to entertain her whenever she drops by," Jack told him, hoping that the redhead would get the hint. "Just let her sit and wait for her sister by herself if you want."

"That wouldn't be very chivalrous," Hans objected, bearing a rueful expression. "I'll admit her constant chattering while I'm studying is a little annoying, but I'm not opposed to talking to her. Now come on, let's go back in. I've gotta finish Urg the Unclean's involvement in the 18th century goblin rebellion. For that paper we were assigned in History of Magic today, you know. You should really get started too, Jack. You're gonna fall behind if you don't."

"I'll work on it later, Hans. Sheesh…"

Hans sighed, exasperated by Jack's carefree attitude towards grades. "Fine, but don't blame me if you flunk out of school."

"Only if you agree to me making a long speech in your eulogy about what a boring workaholic you are when you finally drop dead from all this studying."

That earned him a partial glare from the prince, but Hans didn't rise to the bait this time. Other than the quick scowl, he just whispered the password to the concealed entryway back into their common room.

Jack let out a thoughtful puff, blowing his hair out of his eyes. The youngest Prince of the Southern Isles seriously needed to learn how to lighten up. He never seemed amused by his jokes. And how could this guy be so oblivious to Anna's very obvious crush on him? For all the times people had always called him – Jack Frost – an idiot in the past, it was rather sad to him that this time it was Hans who was the dummy.

But then his prior conversation with Anna came to mind. Jack didn't know Elsa at all, other than her name, her appearance, and her reputation to be as a frosty as a blizzard. The two times he had mistakenly run into her these past two weeks was probably the most he had ever spoke to her in the past four years.

If what Anna said before was true… then, well, something needed to be done about it. He might be a Muggle-born farm boy with no great heritage to his name, but heck, he had principles.

It was right then that Jack made an important decision.

It was high time that someone had a nice long chat with the mysterious Crown Princess of Arendelle regarding her treatment of her little sister.


End file.
